


Tumblr Hockey Fic Collection

by hazel_3017



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, NSFW, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, too many things to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 192
Words: 168,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_3017/pseuds/hazel_3017
Summary: A collection of all my tumblr hockey fic, including prompts and whatnot. Mostly Sid/Geno.
Relationships: Evgeni Malkin & Pittsburgh Penguins Ensemble, Sidney Crosby & Pittsburgh Penguins Ensemble, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin/Alexander Ovechkin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 91





	1. Sid/Geno/Ovi - NSFW, touch, sexual exploration (Coda 1 of Outside of Normal)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The works in this collection are all works of fiction and should in no way be conceived as a reflection of the real, physical world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid/Geno/Ovi. Soul bond au.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ilovealistair asked: "If you are still taking prompts - Sid/Alex O/Geno (or the absence of Geno) - Sid and Alex get along just fine on their own."
> 
> This became a coda to [Outside of Normal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203933).

Alex carefully strokes his hand along the underside of Sidney’s thigh, smirking when Sidney’s breath hitches and his hamstring tightens automatically. Alex hums, pushes down on the muscle with his left thumb and leans over to jot down a note in his notebook. For science.

Sidney shifts minutely on the bed.

“Interesting,” Alex says. When the fingers of his left hand inches upward, pads just teasing at where the swell of Sidney’s ass shadows into his upper thigh, Sidney moans.

“Yes?” Alex prompts. “Was there something you wanted?”

Sidney shakes his head stubbornly.

“Good,” Alex says. He lets his index finger trace along Sidney’s skin, working his way closer and closer towards the inside of Sid’s thigh, eyes glued to where he’s flushing a lovely red. “You’re so good for me, Sidney,” he says, slipping into Russian, both because he knows it turns Sidney on and because it’s harder to remember his English when Sidney opens his legs just that little bit, as much of an invitation as Alex is going to get when Sidney has decided not to cave first.

That’s all right. Alex is not nearly as competitive as his Sidney and his Zhenya. He has no problem indulging.

When he finally lets his fingers trace along Sidney’s crack, it’s Alex who groans, Alex who abandons all pretense.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Sidney, wear you out before the game tomorrow.”

And Sidney would be more than a little annoyed if he knew what Alex was saying – Zhenya would also be less than impressed; they try not to have sex before games – but for science, Alex thinks, and goes about making Sidney feel as good as promised.

(He’s sure Zhenya would understand. For science.)


	2. Sid/Geno/Ovi - Why Sid loves Alex (Coda 1 of Outside of Normal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid/Geno/Ovi. Soul bond au. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Outside of normal was so so good :) XD What part of Alex was Sid drawn to?"

Thank you so much! I’d say his personality mostly (though there was definitely a physical attraction too, which didn’t hurt). Mostly Sidney admires the way Alex is always loud and bright and always says what he means without bothering to censor himself in front of the cameras. He loves his dedication to his team, his country, to Geno, and the way Alex has started calling Sidney on the phone after bad losses now–for both teams–talking about everything and nothing and never once mentioning the game.

Because that’s what they both need. To get away from it all.

He likes the way Alex can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, that easy careless way that Geno is sometimes an asshole too–and apparently that’s just Sidney’s type.

And besides, they always make up for it. Always.

More than anything though, Sidney loves the way Alex loves _him_. The way he makes sure that Alex and Geno don’t accidentally exclude him, that they don’t gang up on him when all of them are worked up, emotions all over the place, and Sidney can’t feel it, won’t ever be able to feel how that trickles down their soul bond.

(He will remain sensory blind for the rest of his life.)

He loves how quickly he bounces back from downfalls too, quicker than Geno and Sidney to be sure, because they all feel their losses and failures acutely, but Sid and Geno find it harder to let go than Alex.

It’s Alex who’ll say something like, “So you haven’t scored in 13 games, big fucking deal. At least you’re not a three-legged dog,” and it’ll be so non-sensical and stupid and hilarious and Sidney can’t help they way he’ll burst into laughter every time, loving Alex just a little bit extra on those days.

He loves the way Alex protects Geno from his complicated relationship with Russia, the way he refuses to let them take advantage, the way he soothes the way they’re still punishing Geno, even years after his escape. Sidney is so grateful, that Alex can say, “You are more than good enough, Zhenya. You’ll always be too good for them,” and have Geno believe him, mostly, because this is a part of their history that Sidney will never really understand, but he hates the way it tears at Geno–the way Sidney can’t do anything but _love_ him and hope, pray, it is enough. To let Alex take care of the rest. To trust him in this.

He loves the way Alex presses kisses to his face, whispering, “You’re a little bit weird, Sidney Crosby, but I like,” into his ear and know that this is Alex saying _I love you–_ the same way Alex says _I love you_ in a thousand different ways because sometimes he has trouble saying the actual words.

His favourite thing about Alex though, about Geno, is that they make him feel safe. They way they let him know, through touches and hugs and kisses that they’re there with him, always.

That Sidney won’t ever have to feel alone again. 


	3. Sid/Geno - Omega!Sid not knowing he's an omega (Explicit language)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omega!Sid. Sid thinks he’s an Alpha. He’s not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing and vast knowledge of the Pens. I just have a request for a mini Omega Sid ficlet, if it's possible for you and no trouble. Hope you have a fantastic day, and I can't wait for "Lightning, Before the Thunder"!!:)))) (also I totally understand if you don't want to write it!)"

The thing is, everybody legitimately thought that Sid was an Alpha.

_Sid_ thought he was an Alpha.

He’d presented as one. Ticked off all the points, lookedlike one with his broad shoulders and thick thighs, with his legs made of muscle and power. Even his personality screamed Alpha—for the most part.

There was nothing in his life, nothing about him, that would indicate that he was anything else but your normal, everyday Alpha.

Except, of course, for the single fact that he’d never been in a Rut.

Sid hasn’t been particularly worried about it. He’s been busy, and he knows the amount of training he did from an early age could lead to delayed Ruts.

Never going through one at all is unusual, sure, but he’s never really thought about it. There’s hockey, which is his priority always, and he gets off by himself when he needs to. It’s fine.

Besides, whenever he _has_ allowed himself to consider sex and Rutting, his fantasies have always gotten a little mixed up, his fingers more adventures and curious than what other Alphas get up to.

Sid doesn’t know a single other male Alpha that likes to finger themselves the way he does. Or at all, really.

Alphas fuck. They live to slot their cocks into the nearest available hole.

Or so his locker room education has led him to believe. Sidney wouldn’t know. He’s a 29-year-old Alpha virgin who’s never had a Rut.

He should probably be embarrassed by that, but Sidney doesn’t care enough to be ashamed of it. He thinks about everything he’s accomplished in his life and feels nothing but pride.

He’s sacrificed so much, worked so hard; he doesn’t ever want to disregard that. Not for his delayed Rut. Not for anything.

It’s unfortunate then, that when Sid’s second gender _does_ decide to announce its appearance, it’s in double overtime against the Sens. It’s not the Rut Sid was expecting.

The puck leaves Sid’s stick and then Kuni has it buried into the back of the net exactly the way they’ve done a hundred times before. It’s perfect. Sid is too busy celebrating their win, celebrating being back in the Final for the second year in a _row_ , to notice the way the guys are clinging a little more than they normally do—or the way Geno comes close for a hug and then never leaves. He circles around Sid, never straying too far away, always within touching distance.

Even when they go through the handshake line, Geno is right there, pushing at Sidney’s back, almost draped over his shoulder. Sid swears he hears him growl when Karlsson pulls Sid into a one-armed hug and congratulates him on the win. He says, “Get another one. Go get them.”

Sidney barely hears him. He’s so hot all of a sudden, and his thighs itch. Sidney has trouble focusing on anything but the sound of Geno’s rumbling; Sid can feel the vibration of Geno’s growls against his back, he’s pressing in so close. Geno’s arm is around his waist.

“Sid?” Karlsson says, looking at Geno’s arm uncertainly, at the way Geno is drawing Sid back against his chest. Karlsson makes to move towards them, but Geno’s growls get louder, more savage. He sounds as if he’s in induced Rut—the way some Alphas sound like when their mate goes into Heat.

“Åh fy fan,” Karlsson swears, and Sidney only knows what that means because Horny says ‘fuck’ in Swedish all the time. “You’re an Omega. Jesus Christ,” Karlsson goes on, and Sidney is confused for only a second, wondering who Karlsson is talking to before he realises that he’s leaning his head back against Geno’s shoulder, neck tilted to one side in offer.

Sidney moans as Geno’s teeth scrape over the long tendon running down the column of his neck; Geno is sucking hickeys into Sidney’s skin for all the world to see.

_Oh,_ Sidney thinks. _I’m the Omega._


	4. Sid/Geno - Immortal!Geno, lost soulmate!Sid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are people like Zhenya in this world, not many, and certainly no one as old, but he’s not the only immortal to walk the Earth. He’s not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> northisnotup inquired: "I fell in love with you three lifetimes ago and I’ve been looking for you ever since but I’ve been starting to give up and my friends’s new crush has your eyes and oh god I’m not going to steal someone’s date just because I’m hoping you’re the person I met in a past life (jk yes I am)"

Right. SO I’m not entirely sure where to go with this, cause it sounds like the plot to an EPIC story, of the 100k variety, but I can’t think of more than the background intro. A sad background, where Geno is just _ancient_. I mean, he’s been around since pre-Rome – he’s so old, he doesn’t even remember his actual age anymore. He was born before humans had really invented the concept of the modern calendar.

It’s been a very long time, though, so long he can’t recall the people who gave life to him, or if he had any siblings. In fact, he remembers very little of his first years. Mostly heat and the cool trickle of water. And Sidney.

Always, always Sidney.

There are people like Zhenya in this world, not many, and certainly no one as old, but he’s not the only immortal to walk the Earth. He’s not alone.

Sidney though, is different. While Zhenya has been cursed with immortality, Sidney suffers a different fate. He’s been cursed with rebirth – reincarnation after his deaths with no recollection of his previous lives beyond a slight niggling at the back of his mind, a continuous feeling of deja vu.

They’re soulmates, the two of them, born of the same time and place.

Zhenya is both lucky and unlucky, because he has Sidney even when he doesn’t, and that is infinitely better than the others like him that roam the world, alone and bitter by the loss of their soulmate, dead and never reborn.

For Zhenya, it’s different. Zhenya too walks the Earth alone, only he has moments of repose, fleeting moments of a few precious years of Sidney’s lifetimes – when he’s lucky enough to find him.

Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes Sidney cycles through several lifetimes before Zhenya finds him.

He’s so alone, then. Thinks he’ll go mad from the solitude, from the sorrow and bitterness of watching everyone around him grow old and die, of watching the world change while Zhenya remains constant.

He curses at the gods, then, screams and rages and prays for death. Anything but his lonely existence. The gods never grant his request, and Zhenya always regrets it anyway, because the thought of Sidney being reborn again and again and again, knowing that there is something – _someone –_ missing from his life…

Zhenya refuses for that to be his fate. He will not have his soulmate suffer needlessly if he can help it.

So he walks the Earth, alone for the most part, until he gets lucky and finds Sidney alive.

Like now.

Zhenya hasn’t seen him for more than two centuries. He must have missed three lifetimes at least.

It’s just his luck that this Sidney is only sixteen. It’s just his luck that this Sidney, is his honorary little brother’s new boyfriend.

_Son of a bitch._


	5. Sid/Geno - Gladiator AU. Dark fic, ABO-verse, mentions of violence (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the NHL makes them fight in an arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking to arcadeghostadventurer about the asg and somehow a gladiator au was born. (Some details borrowed from a sg-1 fic) (If I ever make this an actual fic, the title will be Now We Are Free and it will shamelessly be stolen from the Gladiator soundtrack.)

The ASG where they make them fight like gladiators. Winner gets glory (and Sid).

It’s the gladiator au of my dreams. This is a dark verse. This is the NHL making sure their stars are invested by fighting for their teammates. This is how trades are made: you fight for new picks. Players are paired, usually, made to fight one on one with one player defending their partner. The fighter attacking has no one to defend and is fighting for the right to claim the defender’s partner. So if Geno loses a fight as the defender, the winner (the attacker of the opposing team) gets Sid.

(This is also an A/B/O verse.)

For every fight won, the winner gets marked; Geno is covered, his body a visual reminder of the battles he’s fought and won, scars burnt into his skin and dyed black, like tattoos but not, for even this is painful, always.

(He’s never lost. Not when Sid is the Omega he protects.)

This is a world ruled mainly by Betas, where Alphas and Omegas are a rare commodity. They’re valuable, but considered second class humans by Betas. They’re in the service or entertainment sector mostly, pretty toys for Betas’ amusements.

(This is a very dark verse.)

Politicians are all Betas, as are doctors, lawyers. Any position of power and authority is held by Betas because Alphas and Omegas are considered incapable.

Alphas are thought of as very aggressive and dangerous, which is why they’re usually paired up with an Omega in whatever field of entertainment they’re in. They’re also considered a little stupid. More brawn than brain, which isn’t true, but Beta propaganda is very effective.

Omegas are considered their opposite; weak, but sweet and clever. A natural-born balm against the raging nature of the Alpha.

They live in concentration camps, and they’re not allowed to vote or be landowners. Most Betas doesn’t realise this. They have no idea just how badly treated Alphas and Omegas are. Mostly, they think of them as something cute and exotic. They’re there for their entertainment but not something a Beta would concern themselves with in their daily life.

Betas are still fans, though, still consider Alphas and Omegas to be their heroes, but that only adds to the otherness and separation between the dynamics. To most Betas, Alphas and Omegas are somebody who’s not quite real, not quite human. They forget there is a person behind the face, someone with feelings and hopes and dreams.

Sidney and Geno first became paired as part of the Penguins’ stable, an entertainment organisation owned by a group of Pittsburgh-based Betas. Mario used to be their prized star, but now it is Sid, even as an Omega. He’s unpaired, though, initially, no Alphas a fit to his particular nature.

He needs one if he’s going to play in the NHL—there are far too many Alphas to let an unmated Omega among them (or so the Betas claim).

They find Geno overseas, at the black market.

Sid is brought to Russia and told in no uncertain terms to pick an Alpha or that’s it. Even Morehouse, an extraordinary patient Beta, usually, has reached the end of his limits. 

Sidney knows what being a hockey player can do for his family, knows the extra leeway it will grant his sister, and Omega like himself; he has to find someone who matches his temperament. There is no other option.

Finding Geno, watching him snarl at the crowd jeering at him as he struggles against the chains locked tight around his limbs is indescribable.

Sidney knows instinctively. That’s his Alpha.

“Him,” he says, his quiet voice carrying even through the roar of the crowd.

Morehouse turns to look at him. He lifts an eyebrow. “You are sure? He looks—"

He looks insane. Furious. Unstable.

Morehouse doesn’t say it, but Sid knows what he’s thinking. That the Alpha will be too much.

Sidney needs to convince him otherwise. This Alpha is his.

He nods firmly. “I’m sure. We’ll be a good match.” He’s certain of it.

Morehouse sighs, not completely convinced, but he beckons to a nearby omega all the same and orders her to get her master. “I want to make a purchase,” he says, and Sidney breathes a little easier.

The Alpha is coming back with them.

It takes time for Geno to learn to trust him. He speaks no English when he’s bought into the Penguins’ stable, and the first he learns is, “Sid.”

They share a two-room flat in the Pittsburgh concentration centre, Consol, where the other Alphas and Omegas are kept.

Sid mostly keeps them away from the others in the beginning. Geno is basically feral at this point. He’s been kept with other Alphas mostly, and all that testosterone and aggression hasn’t been the best mix.

He needs tempering

Like a wild stallion

Sid is…patient.

He keeps his voice low and gentle, his touch soft, his movements slow. He makes sure Geno can always hear him coming, so he doesn’t feel trapped or as if he’s sneaking up on him.

It takes time. Geno clearly isn’t used to kindness, isn’t used to not being punished for every little transgression. He tests his boundaries, pushes at Sid’s never-ending patience, trying to figure out where the line is, trying to figure out what he can get away with and what will cost him days without food or the flog to his back.

It’s a process. For them both.

Sid talks all the time and Geno almost never.

Days pass, then a week and another, until three months have gone by and winter is over and spring just begun.

With the changing of the leaves and the blooms of the flowers, Geno becomes just a little bit more relaxed, becomes more used to Sid’s voice and touch.

He starts smiling.

He starts trusting that Sid has his best interest at heart.

Sidney has spent three months familiarising Geno to his presence. Finally, Geno starts touching back.

In fact, Geno touches him all the time.

“He’s imprinted on you,” Pascal says one day, watching the way Geno is running around the inside-field with his kids, letting them tackling him to the artificial grass, groaning out theatrically as they clamber all over him.

Sid hums, keeping his eyes on the scene in front of him.

They’ve been out there for two hours already, and it had taken a good ninety minutes for Geno to decide it was safe to let go of his grip on Sidney’s hand and move outside of his immediate sphere.

“It’s good,” Pascal continues. “He’ll die before letting anyone get to you.“

Sidney frowns at that.

He turns to glare at his friend. “That’s not why I’m doing this,” he protests.

Pascal snorts. “Doesn’t much matter now, does it? If you play good hockey, you’ll be thrown out into an arena with an Alpha from another team, and Geno will either lose or win. What do you think will happen, when he sees another Alpha coming at you?”

Likely tear him apart, Sidney thinks, and refrains from saying so aloud.

“I just want to play hockey. Geno too. You should see him, Pascal. The things he can do on skates. The way he can stickhandle.“

Pascal looks at him sadly. “You know the trials are a part of it. If you want to keep playing, if you want to keep playing with Geno, you have to be a good pair, a winning pair. Otherwise another Alpha will win the rights to you and you’ll belong to another stable.”

Sidney knows, but it’s not something he lies to hear.

Pascal is right, though. The season begin and Pittsburgh does well, very well.

When the first trial of the season approaches, Sid and Geno are nominated like everyone knew they would be. Sidney is drugged and tied to the pole in the centre of the arena, and the crowd of Betas roar their approval as an Alpha from the Flyers fight Geno for the right to mate Sid and claim his player rights.

Sid and Geno have only been mated a few weeks at this point, but Geno is not ready to give up what is _his_.

(Geno fights with vicious, dogged determination, and he does not lose ever.) 

Sometimes, he is really really banged up, and Sid has to take care of him when they’re brought back to the stables and the drug has left his system. He’ll hum softly as he bandages Geno’s body and tends to his wounds, offering comfort however he’s able, and he’ll grit his teeth and clench his hands in anger when they come to burn the marks into Geno’s body and he can’t do anything about it.

(In those moments, watching the tallies on Geno’s body grow with each fight, Sidney promises himself that things will change. They’ll find a way to break free from the oppressive rule of the Betas. They’ll find a way to be _free_.)


	6. Sid/Geno - Gladiator AU. Dark fic, ABO-verse, mpreg (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Gladiator AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I found your gladiator/a/b/o story very compelling and I hope you will explore it more. Is this a mpreg universe? If so, does the Omega loose their value during pregnancy? After the baby is born? Is the Alpha forced to fight for someone else?"

Thank you! I hadn’t really planned on expanding [it](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com/post/138440900388/i-was-talking-to-arcadeghostadventurer-about-the), but I’ll never say never (i. e. I have no self control; this is how I ended up writing a 30k mad max!au). I think this would be a mpreg verse (let’s get real, I’m a sucker for a kid!fic), but I feel as if this would actually increase the value of the bonded pair.

Betas would be all over that shit. See, a child from an Alpha and an Omega is guaranteed to be another Alpha or Omega, while Beta couples exclusively beget new Betas (even the very rare child of a Beta/Alpha or Beta/Omega couple overwhelmingly tends to be a Beta).

So because Alphas and Omegas are considered commodities and are such heavily outnumbered dynamics, Betas appreciate that they are, essentially, a self-sustaining work force.

Pregnancies are still rare though, because the natural evolution of Omegas has ensured that there is a set of required circumstances before an Omega falls pregnant: they need to feel safe and to be happy and to generally feel as if bringing a child into life is a viable option.

Understandably, there’s not a lot of Omegas like that out there. Usually, only a strongly bonded Omega can overcome this biological imperative.

Sidney is, of course, one such Omega.

He knows – even before it’s confirmed or he’s begun to show. He can feel the life growing inside of him, and it terrifies him. Duper is raising his children inside Consol and Sidney has grown up with his own family, but they are some of the lucky ones, and there are so few of them.

Geno had been taken from his family before he’d reached his teens.

Sidney has heard the stories, knows there are Omegas who had just given birth and hadn’t even gotten to hold their child before their Beta masters had come to take them away. 

(He knows there are bonded couple who are forced to watch as their masters raise their children, keeping them so close but out of reach, to ensure the bonded pair’s loyalty and cooperation.

He knows there are children sold to different stables entirely.)

He can’t go through that. He won’t.

Sidney will die before he allows anyone to take his child from him – and Geno will slaughter anyone who tries.


	7. Sid/Geno - Gladiator AU. Dark fic, ABO-verse, mentions of violence (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Gladiator AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I just really wish you'll continue your gladiator a/b/o verse okay? 😍 I like your sid/geno version~"

I don’t know how to continue from [1](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com/post/138440900388/i-was-talking-to-arcadeghostadventurer-about-the) and [2](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com/post/138865968508/i-found-your-gladiatorabo-story-very-compelling)!! Where would I even take this?? Cause it’s a pretty dark verse. All I know is that Geno’s body keeps getting marked for each victory, the tallies seared into his skin and dyed with black ink in a twisted version of a tattoo.

Sidney is utterly helpless. He can’t do anything but watch, his mind still drowsy from the heavy drugs, his eyes fighting to stay open. 

They keep them in the same cell after the battles, knows that if Geno wakes up without Sidney, if he doesn’t see his Omega, he’ll go out of his mind – he’ll kill himself trying to escape the cell, to get to Sid. Better to keep them together than to lose their prized gladiator.

So they drag them both into the holding cell after each match; there’s no danger of either of them disrupting the proceedings. Geno is exhausted, always, half dead sometimes. His body is bruised and beaten, weakened from excessive blood loss.

Sidney is hardly any better. He’s never damaged, his skin always smooth and unbroken – Geno has never let anyone get close enough to land a hand on him – but the pheromone drugs they inject into his veins before every match keep him docile and quiet, trapped in his own body.

He can only watch as the guards bring out the branding iron, as they press it against Geno’s skin, their cell filled with smoke and the smell of burning flesh.

After, when the guards have left and the drugs are starting to leave his system, Sidney drags himself over to where Geno is slumped on the ground. He lifts a heavy hand atop Geno’s chest and closes his eyes for a second. His hand moves up and down in time with Geno’s breathing, and Sidney is so fucking grateful he feels like crying. He’s terrified of the day when they’ll drag them back to their cell and Geno will have lost too much blood, will have suffered injuries too severe to survive. Won’t be breathing.

Sidney sluggishly turns on his side and looks around the tiny cell for the medical kit the guards oh so helpfully leave behind each time. It isn’t much. Bandages, clean water, and a healing paste for Sidney to smear on Geno’s open wounds, to stop the bleeding and prevent infection.

Geno will be taken to the medical bay later - to be injected with drugs that will mend broken bones and knit together cut-open skin. It makes Sidney so tired to think about sometimes, how far their medical technology has advanced and this is what they use it for – entertainment.

He reaches out for the kit, body too slow and heavy, and drags it back towards himself. Next to him, Geno is starting to stir.

“Hush,” Sidney says softly. He leans down to press a kiss next to the new mark on Geno’s right bicep – one of so many. His back is covered; they’ve started marking his arms now. “You’re okay. You did good, G. Dubinsky didn’t even stand a chance, never laid a hand on me.”

Geno whines low in his throat and flails his arm, trying to reach Sidney – for comfort, maybe. Or just to assure himself that Sidney is really there, that he’s safe.

Sidney shushes him again. He takes his hand and lifts it to his lips. Geno sighs when he kisses his split knuckles. He settles down, his body going slack.

“You did so good,” Sidney says again. He keeps up a steady stream of soft murmurs as he cleans the blood off Geno before applying the paste and the bandages where necessary. Geno is calm and pliant for him, soothed by the familiar lilt of Sidney’s voice, letting him take care of him.

When he’s done, Sidney throws the medical kit back to the corner he’d gotten it from and lies down next to Geno, curling into his side.

Geno hums. He shifts weakly to wrap an arm around Sidney’s waist, whispering into his hair, “Thank you. Take care of me best.”

Sidney nods silently, too exhausted and too angry to find his voice. He searches for Geno’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

He closes his eyes again, tired. He’s so very, very tired.

He wonders how long they can keep doing this. He wonders if this is how they’ll die: at the mercy of their Beta masters, trapped inside a holding cell, curled together.


	8. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soulmate au where your soulmate’s favourite pet name for you is written on your arm. Sidney’s spells kitten (in Russian). Geno’s is JERK.
> 
> Sid and Geno meet in an old practice facility in Helsinki when they’re sixteen and seventeen.
> 
> (They do not get along.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "re. that soulmark au: sid immediately knows that geno is his soulmate (like, there aren't that many russian players giving him pet names) but basically every canadian and american player on the ice has called geno a jerk, and worse, so geno has no idea that sid is his. aaaaand cue the uncertainty and angst."

Actually, it’s the reverse! Sid doesn’t put much stock into the whole soulmate thing. He grew up with his parents who met and fell in love and got married despite the _darling_ written on his dad’s arm and the blank skin on his mom’s. 

“Soulmates aren’t the be all, end all,” Trina used to say when Sidney was growing up. She had always known she didn’t have a soulmate out there, but she’d never believed she was less worthy of love because of it. She always said Troy was the love of her life, and the way his dad looked back at her made it clear he felt the same.

Sidney is very little when he decides it doesn’t matter who he falls in love with as long as he loves them the way his mom and dad love each other.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t curious about the strange even letters and the word written on his arm, but he’s still so very young and hockey is obviously more important. He can fall in love later.

…Sidney actually thinks the word on his arm means _bunny_. In his defense, he’s only six when he looks up the word in a travel dictionary he gets to borrow from his teacher, and котенок and кролик sort of look the same to him. The placement of the small, black letters doesn’t help. It’s just above his elbow, on the back of his arm, and when Sidney lifts his arm to look at it in the mirror the word is upside down and backwards. If he tries to look at it directly on his skin, the lines get all scrunched by the way he has to twist his arm to look.

So котенок gets mistaken for кролик and Sid never knew how either sounded anyway, so he thinks it’s ‘bunny’ and there is no one qualified to correct him until _years_ later, long after Sid meets seventeen-year-old Geno in Helsinki, bristling at him because the only practice facility that is open so late is old and has just the one functional treadmill and Sid clearly signed the booking sheet that says the treadmill is his to use from 8 to 8:30 pm. 

He is supremely unimpressed to walk into the gym and find the treadmill already in use. 

He tries to explain the situation to the boy on the treadmill, even doing some pantomiming, and despite seeming not to understand English, he clearly understands why Sid is annoyed – and doesn’t care. At all.

“No,” the boy says when Sid (calmly) gestures for him to step off the treadmill. He grins at Sidney.

Sid stares at him, unreasonably upset. He’d signed up for that treadmill, dammit! “You- you jerk!” he blurts out, and, if possible, the boy’s grin grows even wider.


	9. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evgeni is sixteen when he starts covering up the mark, and seventeen when he meets Sidney Crosby for the first time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "HIS NICKNAME IS KITTEN???? I need elaboration is it because of those big hazel gold eyes?"

Evgeni doesn’t believe in love at first sight. He believes in soulmates – he himself is the product of a bonded pair, and he’s never seen any two people happier or more in love than his parents – but love at first sight seems impossible. Just a fairy tale.

He wasn’t always so dubious about it. When he was young, young _er_ , and he was still proudly displaying the large bold lettering on his left wrist, Evgeni used to hope that the first person to call him **JERK** would be his soulmate. He was starting to make a name for himself, not only in his hometown but across the country; he and Alex Ovechkin were the hottest prospects to come out of Russia since Pavel Datsyuk. It was a heady feeling, and things would only get better from there. Evgeni wants to share that with someone. He wants what his parents has, young as he is.

When he is fourteen, he meets a girl who has never seen his mark before, but who’d heard about it from a mutual friend. She sighs when she sees the word on his wrist, looking sad as she says, “It’s in English. I thought it would be in Russian; I don’t know how to pronounce this.” She’d known she wasn’t his soulmate, but she’d been so desperate to make it out of Magnitogorsk, to be something _more_ , that she’d been willing to convince Evgeni they were a match.

She is the first, but not the last. Some even learn how to say ‘jerk’ in English, but it sounds predictably foreign, and it never feels right, not like how he imagines soulmates are meant to feel.

Evgeni is sixteen when he starts covering up the mark, and seventeen when he meets Sidney Crosby for the first time. 

Suddenly, Evgeni is forced to reevaluate his stance on love at first sight.

He stares at the pretty boy as he gestures pointedly to the signup sheet attached to the treadmill, bristling at Evgeni like an angry kitten.

Evgeni knows, in an abstract kind of way, who he is – everyone knows who Sidney Crosby is, even at sixteen – but he’s never met him in person before, and he hasn’t been prepared for how charmed he is, how taken in by the hazel-coloured eyes, sometimes green sometimes brown, slanted, like a cat’s, and the pout Sidney tries desperately to hide from him.

He really is quite distressingly cute.

Sidney is talking in rapid-fast English, but Evgeni doesn’t pay much attention, doesn’t think he would even if he had understood the words; he’s too busy staring at the shape of Sidney’s mouth. He can’t help his smirk when Sidney gets visibly more and more upset, practically stomping his foot in frustration when he motions for Evgeni to get off the treadmill.

“No,” Evgeni says, one of the few words he knows in English, and has to hold back a laugh at the disbelief on Sidney’s face. His eyes track the features of his face eagerly, the strands of black hair that curl over his forehead, and the high jut of his cheekbones, hidden underneath the fullness of his cheeks, still round with leftover baby fat. 

Evgeni is mesmerised; if Sidney is pretty now, then one day he’ll be stunning.

Sidney makes a noise of frustration. “You- you jerk!” he blurts at him, and Evgeni feels a lost piece of his soul slot into place so fast he thinks he maybe imagined it.

But he knows he didn’t; he can feel the rightness inside of his chest, the fast beating of his heart, and he fucking beams, grinning so hard his face aches with it.

That’s his soulmate in front of him. His very own.

He watches as Sidney takes a wary step back. “Uhhh,” he says. He looks hesitant now, none of that prickling anger from before.

“Don’t be scared, kitten,” Evgeni says, the pet name slipping out before he can really think it over, and that too feels right. Fitting. “Kотенок,” he breathes out as he finally gets off the treadmill and steps towards Sidney. “My kitten.”

Evgeni probably deserves the right hook to his face and the shocked, scandalised, “Jerk!” he gets for trying to plant one on Sidney, casual as anything.

He may have jumped the gun there, just a little bit.





	10. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Alex sees Sidney and Zhenya together is also the first time he hears Sidney call Zhenya a jerk. With much prejudice.
> 
> Alex is so surprised he trips over his own two feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "jerk and kitten update soon?"

The first time Alex sees Sidney and Zhenya together is also the first time he hears Sidney call Zhenya a jerk. With much prejudice.

Alex is so surprised he trips over his own two feet.

“Shit, man, you okay?”

Alex flails his hand, waving his teammates’ concern away, and stalks across the hotel restaurant once he’s back on his feet.

“What’s this?” he demands. He props his hands on his hips, is suddenly and painfully reminded of his mother, and drops them hastily, playing at cool.

By the look of horrified panic on Zhenya’s face and Sidney’s wide eyes, he’s probably not doing a very good job of it.

“What are you _doing_?”

“Who—who are you?”

It takes Alex a second to filter out Sidney’s English and Zhenya’s Russian into two separate sentences before he finds the words to say, “Zhenya. He called you _you-know-what_.” He can’t actually say _jerk_ , because it’s English and doesn’t translate well and Sidney would most definitely understand.

It’s not only rude to out someone as soul mates, it’s simply not done, and even Alex isn’t that crass. Soul mates are meant to find each other.

Zhenya is scowling at him, his wrist still covered up—and it’s been more than a year since he started hiding the mark, since Alex has seen the black letters: **JERK.** Alex is sure though, so sure that Sidney is the one. He’s Zhenya’s soul mate.

Alex is at once jealous and so happy for him. Possibly a little sympathetic; Sidney is eyeing them both warily, slowly inching away as if he thinks he’s just quiet enough he’ll escape their notice.

Zhenya has his work cut out for him there.

Alex is going to do him the biggest favour of his life and give Sidney a reason to stay.

“Sidney Crosby! I see you’ve already met Zhenya,” he says, slipping into English easily enough. He sees Sidney startle, surprised by the English, maybe. He looks closer at Alex, narrowing his eyes a little, and Alex can visibly see the moment he realises who he is.

He will forgive Sidney for not recognising him before.

“You’re Alex Ovechkin,” he says. He turns his eyes on Zhenya. He still looks wary, but more interested now. Less likely to run away. Alex is sure there’s a story there. “You’re Evgeni Malkin, aren’t you? I thought you looked familiar before.”

Zhenya has been mostly glaring at Alex—which, _rude_ —but at the sound of his name from Sidney’s lips, his eyes go soft. There’s this look on his face, so utterly besotted and awed Alex can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for him. 

“Evgeni, da,” he says, pronouncing the name clearly for Sidney’s benefit.

“Evgeni,” Sidney says again, and completely mangles it. Zhenya doesn’t look like he cares very much.

“How you two meet?” Alex asks curiously. He sees Zhenya frown at him. His English is still an abysmal mess, but Sidney bristles, practically vibrating with indignant fury as he points his finger accusingly at Zhenya.

“This, this _jerk_ stole my treadmill! And he tried to kiss me,” he hisses out, lowering his voice to a whisper so no one can overhear. He’s blushing wildly, glaring at Zhenya as if he thinks Zhenya will try to lay one on him any minute now. “So I sucker punched him, and he hasn’t left me alone since. I just want some food before I go to bed.”

Alex blinks. He looks from Sidney to Zhenya, eyes landing on where he can see Zhenya’s left cheek starting to swell. It looks painful. He can’t believe he missed that before, and winces a little. Coach won’t be happy. It’s gonna be hilarious. “Oh, you bastard.” He laughs. He can’t help himself. “You stupid bastard,” he says in Russian, and laughs even harder when Zhenya growls at him to shut the fuck up.

“Seriously, shut up, Sanja. You’ll scare him away.”

“Oh, you’re doing that just fine on your own.”

Sidney frowns at them. “It’s rude to talk in another language in front of someone who doesn’t understand, you know,” he says.

Alex grins at him and clamps his hand down on his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Zhenya doesn’t speak much English. He’s very bad. Never took his studies seriously. You should help him. Zhenya will be in the NHL one day and will have to speak to media. Will be very hard for him.”

Sidney loses some of his bristling anger at that. He looks at Zhenya, considering. “Well, you really should learn English,” he tells him with a nod. “The media will have a field day with you otherwise.”

Zhenya obviously has no idea what they’re saying, but he looks ready to walk through fire if it means Sidney continues talking to him. He smiles at Sidney hopefully—it’s the same look he gives his mama to get out of trouble. It hasn’t worked on her for years, Alex knows, but Sidney is clearly a sucker for it. He softens just a little, and Alex takes the opportunity to herd them both towards an available table, pushing Sidney to sit down next to the chair Zhenya claims and telling them to stay put.

“I will get us food,” he tells them, and urges Sidney to run through some easy verbs with Zhenya until he gets back. He leaves them to it, trusting Zhenya not to screw things up too badly while he’s gone, and raids the buffet table for slices of whole-grain bread and chocolate spread—plus some fruit to balance out the carbs—and steadily ignores the looks he’s getting from the other players staying in the hotel, including his own teammates.

When he returns to their table, Sidney is slowly and carefully teaching Zhenya how to conjugate _skate—skating—skated_ and Zhenya isn’t even pretending to pay attention, eyes locked firmly on the shape of Sidney’s mouth.

Alex can’t say he entirely blames him.

“You so good to him, Sidney Crosby,” Alex coos as he sits down. “Zhenya don’t deserve you. Should run away with me.”

“What?”

“Sanja,” Zhenya barks at him, because he may not understand what he said, but he knows Alex and they’ve always been dicks to each other.

It’s the foundation of their friendship.

Sidney looks between them for a moment before apparently deciding he doesn’t care. He rolls his eyes at them and grabs a plate and two pieces of bread off Alex’s tray. “You keep calling him Zhenya, and he calls you Sanja?”

“They’re Russian nicknames. For friends and family,” Alex explains, while Zhenya just smiles at Sidney like the idiot he is. “You should use.”

Sidney looks surprised at that, perhaps confused or even suspicious of the familiarity they’re willing to extend him, but he tries, and fails. Badly.

After the fifth or so try, Alex holds up his hand. “Please, no more. Just call me Alex.”

Sidney flushes, looking annoyed at his own failure, but agrees easily enough. He turns his gaze on Zhenya. “And for you? What should I call you?” He chews on his lower lip thoughtfully as he considers him. “Geno, maybe?” he suggests, which actually doesn’t sound all that different from Zhenya, but is still far inferior, obviously.

Zhenya is nodding eagerly though, and Alex knows he doesn’t care what Sidney calls him as long as he has cause to call Zhenya anything at all. “Geno. Good,” he says, and Sidney smiles, looking pleased and a little shy of all things.

Alex rolls his eyes at them. He’s pretty sure the two deserve each other.


	11. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sid and Geno start wearing ear guards.

Sidney and Evgeni aren’t so much pen pals as it is him sending Sidney letters and post cards and texts and even the occasional call – and Sidney being too Canadian, and therefore too polite, to ignore it all. His very nature demands that he reciprocates, if only just.

Evgeni treasures every post card he gets in return; he re-reads every letter until the edges are worn thin and fragile. He sometimes lets Sidney’s returning phone calls go direct to his voice mail, just so he can listen to it over and over again, smiling when he hears Sidney say, “You shouldn’t be making international calls so often, Geno. It’s expensive. Oh, I saw a replay of your game the other day, and that was a stupid penalty you took. You played really well, though, even if you should be playing here; I wish the lockout was over already. Call me back when you get this. It’s Sid, by the way.”

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. They’ve known each other for almost two years, but it’s not so long ago when Sidney wouldn’t have bothered to leave a message if Evgeni didn’t pick up the phone, certainly not one telling him to call Sidney back. 

They’ve come a long way.

This is what Evgeni is going to tell his grandchildren one day:

_I made your grandpapa tolerate me through exposure and sheer force of will. He’s a very stubborn man, you know._

The love will come later. He hopes.

Baby steps, Evgeni decides. He’ll settle for Sidney tolerating him for now. They have all the time in the world to fall in love.

“Didn’t I say you shouldn’t be making so many international calls?” is the first thing Sidney says when he picks up the phone.

Evgeni snorts. He wonders what he did in his previous life to deserve a soul mate with such a one-track mind.

“Also say to call you back, Sid. Have to make up mind,” he teases. He laughs loudly when Sidney calls him a jerk under his breath. He feels a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach, as if his soul word from his soul mate’s lips is lighting him up from the inside out.

Evgeni is so in love with him he can’t breathe for it sometimes.

“At least make Ovi stop prank calling me,” Sidney says. “If I have to hear him sing that Spice Girl song one more time I’ll block his number, don’t think I won’t!”

Evgeni barks out another laugh at that. “You don’t know how!” Sidney is hopeless with most technology, and even if his phone is ancient, there’s no way he knows how.

“I’ll pay someone to do it,” Sidney grumbles, but he doesn’t sound too annoyed yet. Evgeni predicts he’ll last through at least another two renditions of _Wannabe_ before he makes good on his threat and blocks Sanja’s number.

Sanja will be pleased.

“Anyway, I met with the Rebook people today,” Sidney continues. He clears his throat, sounding awkward when he says, “They, uh, they want to pay me a lot of money. Like, a _lot_.”

“Is bad?”

“No, of course not, it’s just. I’m not even in the League yet, and – I could pay off my parents’ loans with this money.”

Evgeni hums. There’s an undertone of worry in Sidney’s voice, something small and vulnerable. Evgeni wonders if Sidney realises how honest he’s being with him, how open. Stripped naked down to the bare bone of him.

“Kотенок,” he says gently. “Of course you will play in NHL. You Sidney Crosby, da? Best player in the world already. What Rebook want to pay…” he trails off. Switching to Russian, he says, “You’re worth all that and more, котенок,” because he knows Sidney isn’t ready to hear that just yet.

Sidney is quiet for a moment. His breath is steady over the line, and if Evgeni closes his eyes, he could pretend Sidney was breathing right next to him.

“They want me to sign a contract. They have stipulations,” Sidney says finally.

Evgeni doesn’t know what ‘stipulations’ means, but he can make an educated guess. “They have rules?”

“Yeah.” Sidney laughs a little. “They want me to wear ear guards? I mean if, _when_ , I get to the League.”

Ear guards? “But no one use ear guard in NHL,” Evgeni says, confused. Why would they make him wear the ear guards? He’d still be using their helmet. Wasn’t that advertisement enough?

“I know. But it’s one of the rules, so I guess I have to. If I sign.”

“Of course you sign, котенок, don’t be stupid,” Evgeni scoffs.

“But.” He hears Sidney take a deep breath, releasing it in a rush as he says, “I’ll look weird.”

Evgeni blinks, and then he bursts out laughing. It’s such a Sidney thing to worry about. “Look weird now,” he teases, and can practically hear Sidney roll his eyes at him. “Is stupid reason, Sid. Just use the ear guards, already do now, da? No big deal.”

“It will be if I’m the only one wearing them. It’s just another thing they can use against me. It’s…it’s _weak_.”

Evgeni scoffs, angry now. He knows who _they_ are, and Sidney is right to worry, is the thing. Evgeni wishes he could be there with him. That he could beat up anyone who even looked at Sidney wrong, much less called him all kinds of nasty names, or hammered him with ugly hits and ugly slashes. 

He wishes he could make them leave him alone.

“I wear ear guards too,” he says instead, because that is easy, and it’s the one thing he _can_ do. To make Sidney a little less weird, a little less other. “We be weird together.”

“ _Geno_.”

“Kотенок.”

Sidney breathes out. “Okay,” he says, and if he sounds a little shaky, Evgeni doesn’t call him out on it. “We’ll be weird together. You and me, eh? You’re a good friend, Geno.”

Which is how Evgeni starts wearing ear guards in the KHL. He gets some strange looks from his teammates, and Sanja chirps him mercilessly when he finds out, but what does Evgeni care?

He’s just been upgraded on Sidney’s list from _tolerable_ to _friend_.

Evgeni would do a great many things just for that alone.


	12. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vadik does not like Sidney Crosby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Why has no-one written a fic where Geno keeps seeing Shipachyov in his Team Russia 87 jersey and having a little internal freakout about Sid in a Russia jersey?"
> 
> I shall remedy this for you right now! Set in the Jerk and Kitten verse. (Vadik is a Russian diminutive for Vadim (Shipachyov))

Vadik does not like Sidney Crosby.

Surprisingly, this has nothing to do with Sidney Crosby and everything to do with Evgeni Malkin – and is really because Evgeni Malkin does not like _Vadik_ , which is no fault of his own and has everything to do with Sidney Crosby.

Even though Vadik has never met Sidney Crosby in his life.

It’s all a bit needlessly complicated.

Vadik figures he could probably un-complicate it by giving up the #87 for international play, but dammit, Sidney Crosby does not hold the patent for the number 87, and until he does, Vadik is going to keep wearing it.

No matter how many times Zhenya calls him котенок before he remembers who Vadik is and goes from playful bully to pissed off bear in three seconds flat.

“You can’t really blame him,” Sasha says – Sasha to him, Sanja to Zhenya, and Alex to the rookies still staring at the Great 8 with stars in their eyes. “It’s Sid, after all.”

_It’s Sid_ , he says, as if that explains everything, as if the crime of not being Sidney Crosby perfectly justifies Zhenya’s dislike.

As if _Vadik_ is in the wrong here.

Well, fuck that. And fuck Sidney Crosby, too.

“Don’t let Zhenya hear you say that,” Sasha says with a laugh, but the hand he squeezes around Vadik’s shoulder is less than friendly. They know each other, Vadik remembers, are friends despite how the American media tries to pit them against each other.

“Just focus on playing,” Sasha advises. “Zhenya will like you better after you’ve scored a couple goals.”

He doesn’t, not on the ice anyway, but Vadik still takes the advice and plays as well as he can. He’s no Sidney Crosby out there (which is the fucking problem in the first place), but he plays decent enough, scrounging up seven points in seven games when it’s all said and done.

Russia wins the 2014 World Championship, and Zhenya is much more forgiving off the ice, where he can’t see the number on Vadik’s back. He even smiles at him, tucks Vadik under his arm and introduces him to girl after girl in bar after bar.

“This is Vadik,” he tells them, grinning that grin of his, the one Vadik thinks makes him look stupid but somehow charms everybody else. “He is a good boy and he just won gold. Take good care of him.”

Vadik sleeps with more women than he can remember that summer, but Zhenya always goes home alone.

“What did you expect?” Sasha asks when he brings it up, and next to him, Maria smiles knowingly; she’s very blonde and very pretty, and Vadik sort of forgets what they were talking about in the first place.

Sasha playfully warns him to back off, and Maria laughs and laughs.

(Even her laugh is pretty.)

Vadik grins.

When Vadik sees Zhenya again, it’s a year later, and he’s forgotten all about his dislike for Sidney Crosby until the first time Zhenya says, “Kотенок,” all warm and soft. There’s a hand at his shoulder, and Vadik knows, even before he turns to look at Zhenya that this is going to get real tiresome real quick.

“Zhenya,” Vadik greets, and the look on his friend’s face is a glaring reminder of why Vadik used to curse the name Sidney Crosby on a daily basis.

There’s no Sasha to tell him to focus on just playing this time, not yet, and Vadik spends a few god-awful games being frozen out by Zhenya on the ice until they make it through the preliminaries and travel back to Prague for the semis.

“You’ll understand soon,” Sasha tells him when he joins them in Ostrava, after his Capitals have been beaten out of the race for the Stanley Cup. “Just watch them together.”

Vadik can think of a hundred different things he’d rather do than watch Zhenya coo over Sidney Crosby (he’s heard it often enough, Zhenya on the phone or just talking about his captain in general. Vadik really doesn’t need the visual), but there’s something in Sasha’s voice. Pointed, maybe. As if Vadik should have figured this all out already.

They haven’t even been in Prague for more than ten minutes before it all slots into place. They’re still at the station, stepping off the train and gathering their bags when he hears it.

“Geno!”

Vadik is suddenly and rudely pushed to the side as Zhenya barrels past him and into Sidney Crosby’s waiting arms.

“Kотенок! What you do here?” Vadik hears him say in stilted English, and when he looks over his shoulder, he can see Crosby laugh, delighted, as Zhenya squeezes him tight and lifts him off his feet for a second.

Zhenya holds Crosby close longer than strictly necessary, and when they finally pull back from their embrace, his hands linger in the air, as if he wants to look Crosby over, check for unseen hurts and aches. He ends up cupping Crosby’s jaw, tilting his chin up and tutting at a large bruise there. “What happen?” he asks, gentle, so, so gentle.

Vadik didn’t even know Zhenya could be that soft spoken.

“You understand now?” Sasha asks next to him.

Vadik nods. “Yes,” he says, and he really does. Crosby is Zhenya’s soul mate. It’s so obvious, Vadik can tell just by looking at them together. He turns to Sasha, a question on his tongue, but Sasha is already shaking his head.

“Sid doesn’t know,” he explains. “Zhenya refuses to tell him for reasons I don’t even remember.”

“He’s always known?”

“Yes.”

Vadik blinks at that. He can’t imagine seeing his soul mate everyday for years and years and never saying anything. Zhenya clearly loves Crosby, it’s clear as day – whatever his reasons for not telling, Vadik thinks it’s more stupid than noble.

He looks back at Zhenya and Crosby, at Crosby looking up at Zhenya with warm eyes, crinkled in the corners by the soft smile playing on his lips.

Zhenya is staring back at him as if he is his whole world, completely oblivious to the other passengers around them.

Well then.

“I’m not giving up my number,” he says stubbornly. Zhenya can sort out his love life without Vadik having to give up the #87. “It’s not patented,” he grumbles under his breath.

Next to him, Sasha throws his head back and laughs loudly. He claps Vadik on the back, friendly. “Good man,” he says. “Good man.”


	13. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kотенок.
> 
> There it is.
> 
> Kотенок - Kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the soulmate verse is officially non-linear now, because arcadeghostadventurer and northisnotup started pestering me about when Sid finds out Geno’s his soulmate and suddenly I’d written 1300 words on how it happens. 

Geno recognises from the start that Sid has no idea that he’s his soulmate. Soulmates don’t necessarily mean love, and he refuses to tell Sid until he’s sure Sid loves him back.

He doesn’t want to influence Sidney’s feelings for him, and as they grow close and get to know each other better, Geno learns what kind of person Sid is. He knows Sid’s heart, and he knows that Sid would want to be with him out of obligation if he found out about their bond and how utterly, completely in love with him Geno is. Sidney wouldn’t want to hurt him.

That’s worse than rejection, and Geno can’t. He just can’t do that to either of them.

Then there is Sid..

Sid with the Russian pet name on his arm, Sid with his stupidly handsome jerk of a friend who keeps calling Sid something sweet and affectionate in Russian. Sid thinks maybe that means Geno is his and he is Geno’s, but when he asks Gonch what ‘bunny’ sounds like in Russian, it’s nothing like the word Geno keeps calling him.

Sid is…disappointed

Somewhere along the line, somehow, Sidney fell in love with Geno. Sid thinks he could be happy with him, that they would be good for each other. He thinks nothing else would matter as long as they were together, not the critics, not the injuries, nothing would matter but them…

Except, Geno _loves_ soulmate mythology. He’s the biggest romantic Sidney knows, and the word he’s calling Sidney—kitten, he learns—isn’t the word on his skin.

Sidney can’t take that from him.

There’s someone out there who belongs to Geno, his very own, and it’s not Sidney.

He won’t pretend he is.

Sid doesn’t find out the truth until _years_ later, during the Stanley Cup finals vs the Blues.

This is how it happens:

Sid can’t sleep. He’s too nervous, body too jittery, his limbs unable to stay still.

It’s late, far too late for Sid to still be up before a game 7 that will decide if he gets to lift the Cup again.

As the clock ticks past the 1 AM mark, Sidney can’t take it anymore.

He gets out of bed, shrugging into his sweats and sneaking out of the hotel in just his slippers, feet bare.

The hotel is right next to the arena, and it takes him no time at all before he’s standing outside the opening doors and realises that he doesn’t have a key.

“Shit,” he murmurs.

There’s a sudden breeze, and Sidney shivers, absently rubbing at his arms, regretting that he hadn’t thrown a hoodie over his thin t-shirt.

He startles when there’s a noise behind him.

He swivels around, squinting into the darkness because he’s standing right under a spotlight and he can’t see past the ring of flooding light.

“Crosby?” he hears someone say incredulously. The voice is accented, familiar in the way that means Sidney has heard it before somewhere but can’t quite place it. “Why are you here?”

Vladimir Tarasenko steps into the light, and Sidney relaxes, his shoulders loosening.

“Hey,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.“

Tarasenko stares at him. He looks impossibly young under the harsh glare of the artificial light.

Sidney doesn’t know him very well, but he reminds him of Geno in that moment.

Tarasenko eyes him sceptically for a moment. Finally, he nods.

“Me too,” he admits. “Tomorrow.” He halts, exhaling shakily. He’s all nerves and excitement. “ _Today_ ,” he corrects, “is big day. Biggest day of my career.”

Sidney hums in agreement.

He could play game 7 in the Stanley Cup final a hundred times and it would always be the most important day of his career.

They stand in companionable silence for a while, taking a break from the rivalry and the heat of battle.

Another gust of wind rustles the dark curls spilling over Sid’s forehead, his hair too long now that it’s June and he hasn’t had a cut or a shave in ages in fear of jinxing their run.

He rubs at his arms again, one hand lingering over the tiny print on the back of his arm, just above his elbow. He scratches at the mark absently.

“What’s that?” Tarasenko asks, tilting his head curiously as he fixes his gaze on Sidney’s arm.

It’s a gaudy question. He must recognise it for what it is, and one simply doesn’t ask about another’s mark like this.

Sid has half a mind to scold him for it, to shrug his shoulders and step away before Tarasenko can read the word, but… He’s Russian, he remembers suddenly.

He lets his hand fall away, baring the small text, the Cyrillic letters finally visible.

Tarasenko draws in a deep breath. He looks confused.

Sidney is not surprised. People have been speculating about his mark for years. He has never done much to hide it, the text so small and foreign that there hasn’t been much danger of anyone finding out. From afar it doesn’t even look like much, a birthmark maybe, but nothing like the bold lines most people with a name on their skin boasts.

There’s been a rumour going around that Sidney doesn’t have a word, that he’s mateless—too _other_ andtoo _different_ for there to be someone out there meant specifically for him.

A reporter asked him if it was true once, classless and gleeful, and Sid hadn’t answered.

The media had taken that as a yes and run with it.

“Kотенок,” Tarasenko says slowly.

Sidney gasps, startled out of his thoughts. “What?” He’s breathing a little faster all of a sudden. “What did you say?“

Tarasenko stares at him, his brows furrowed. “Kотенок,” he says again. “It means ‘kitten’,” he explains.

 _Kitten_. Kотенок.

Sidney recognises that word. He hears it everyday, at the rink, at his own home, at _Geno’s_. It’s the same word Geno has been calling him ever since they first met, back when Sidney had been sixteen and Geno seventeen; as smug then as he is now.

“No,” Sidney says. His voice sounds foreign to him. Scraped raw. “No, that’s not right.” He takes in a slow, shuddery breath. “It means ‘bunny’,“ he insists.

Tarasenko laughs. It rips out of him, as if he can’t help himself.

“No. Means ‘kitten’. Who of us Russian? You or me?”

There must be something on Sidney’s face, his shock so visceral and obvious that Tarasenko starts looking a little concerned.

“Here,” he says, “let me show you.“ He brings out his phone and enters his pass-code before bringing up an app. It’s a Russian to English dictionary.

“See. This is how ‘bunny’ looks.”

He shows Sidney on the phone, and Sid stares at the word he’s been so sure has been stamped on his skin for years.

It looks different from what he’s used to seeing when he bothers to check the mark.

“And this is ‘kitten’.“

Kотенок.

There it is.

Kотенок - Kitten.

Not bunny as Sidney had thought. They look similar though, and maybe if he’d been older, a little more mature, Sidney would have been able to tell the difference, but his six-year-old self had never cared much about it. It had been an easy, if significant mistake.

“I—”

Tarasenko looks at him expectantly.

“I didn’t know,” Sidney manages to croak out. “I always thought it meant ‘bunny’.“

He needs to—He needs Geno. He needs to see him _now_.

“I have to go. There’s—there’s someone I need to see.”

“Zhenya.” Tarasenko nods in understanding.

Sidney blinks at him. “What?“

“Kотенок…it’s what Zhenya calls you.” He smiles hesitantly at Sidney, and Sid remembers that Geno and Tarasenko actually know each other pretty well. They play on the national team together. “Never heard him call you anything else but his kitten,” Tarasenko continues. “Maybe Sid, once or twice.“

His kitten. His very own.

“What,” Sidney says again, decidedly less impressed this time.

Geno had known? From the very start, Geno had known? And he’d never said anything? Not once?

“That jerk!”

Tarasenko is grinning now, nodding along as if afraid that he’ll make Sidney more irate if he disagrees.

Sidney feels as if he’s vibrating out of his skin.

“Thanks,” he says. “Really.” He nods at Tarasenko and then takes off, striding back to the hotel with purpose.

He fucking hopes Geno is asleep, that jerk.

If he is, he’s in for a rude awakening.


	14. Sid/Geno - Soulmates AU (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re soul mates and you knew?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "any hope for a jerk and kitten update at some point? i spend too much time thinking about what sid does after that talk with tarasenko."

When Evgeni stumbles out of bed and manages the few steps to his hotel door, rubbing at his bleary eyes and grumbling under his breath about how he’s going to _kill someone if it’s not an emergency, I swear, do you not realise we’re playing game seven and I need sleep_ he wasn’t expecting to see Sidney at the other side of the door or the fist that connects with his jaw.

Evgeni’s head snaps back.

“What the _fuck_ —”

“We’re _soul mates_ and you _knew_?”

Evgeni’s brain short-circuits for a moment. It’s been more than a decade since he tried to kiss the pretty boy who turned out to be his soul mate, and Evgeni probably deserved the punch to his face then as much as this one.

“Kотенок,” he tries, but Sidney is shaking his head, pushing past Evgeni so he can stalk into the room and over to the mini fridge. Evgeni stares at him as Sidney wrenches open the door, grabbing the first flask he sees and emptying it with three quick swallows.

Evgeni rubs at his aching jaw and closes the hotel door, leaning against it tiredly. “Kотенок,” he says again.

Sidney throws the empty bottle in the trash. He shifts on his feet, his hands finding the pockets of his sweats before he stubbornly takes them out, fists clenching at his sides. He won’t meet Evgeni’s eyes.

“Do you not—Didn’t you—” Sidney seems unable to find the words he’s looking for, or afraid maybe, of what Evgeni will say if he does.

Evgeni has known Sidney since they were seventeen and sixteen. He spent _years_ fighting to make himself a regular fixture of his soul mate’s life, to become someone worthy of Sidney’s trust and love, settling for friendship until Sidney was ready to face the true depth of their bond.

Because something, _anything_ , has always been better than nothing.

Evgeni forgets, sometimes, that Sidney can be spectacularly slow on the uptake.

He’s always thought that Sidney has been willfully ignorant, that deep down he’s known they are soul mates even if he hasn’t been ready for it.

Now he thinks Sidney never realised.

“I always want you,” Evgeni says; Sidney appears incapable of asking but he needs to know. “Not a day goes by when I don’t, but I think maybe you weren’t ready to hear.”

“That’s stupid,” Sidney says. He still won’t meet Evgeni’s eyes, but he doesn’t move when Evgeni steps towards him, inching closer until he can tug Sidney into his arms.

Sidney doesn’t hug him back, but he lets himself be held and Evgeni takes it as a good sign. Sidney would have stormed out already if he wanted nothing more to do with him.

“You should have told me; I deserved to know. It was stupid of you not to.”

“Maybe,” Evgeni allows. “Probably,” he amends when Sidney pulls back to glare at him incredulously. Evgeni pulls him into his arms again, and this time, Sidney’s arms come up to wrap around Evgeni’s back.

Evgeni presses a kiss against his hair. He breathes him in deeply.

“I was very stupid,” Evgeni says, acknowledging the truth of that. “But I fall in love with you first time I see you, Kотенок. Didn’t want to say and have you think you have to be with me because you decide that’s the right thing to do.”

“When have I _ever—_ ”

“Do things you don’t want all the time, Sid,” Evgeni says, and Sidney can’t deny that no matter how much he wants to. “Sometimes doing the right thing means doing not what you want but what you need to.”

Sidney bristles, but he recognises the words—the same Sidney has told Evgeni throughout the years at various points in their lives.

“That doesn’t—That’s not—” Sidney glares up at Evgeni. “That’s not the same, you jerk,” he says. “I didn’t know, and I deserved to know. I thought—I thought my word meant _bunny_. I didn’t know that Kотенок, that it was, that you meant—”

“What?” Evgeni blinks down at him. Because _what now?_ “You didn’t—? You think your soul word was _bunny_?”

He must sound as incredulous as he feels, and Sidney pouts as he looks away, trying halfheartedly to pull out of Evgeni’s arms again.

Evgeni doesn’t let him.

He strokes his hand over the underside of Sidney’s bicep, right over his elbow where he can feel the slightly raised skin of the black lettering. The Cyrillic text is so much smaller than the large letters spelled crossed Evgeni’s wrist. Kотенок, it says. Evgeni has seen the word many times, but it’s the first time he gets to touch it, the first time his fingers stroke over it and feel Sidney shiver at the touch, at the truth of what it means.

“Why you think—?”

Sidney flushes a lovely red. “I was just a kid, okay. I looked it up in a dictionary and I thought it meant _bunny_. They looked similar enough,” he says, looking a little sheepish.

Evgeni laughs, can’t help himself. He shakes his head. “All this time, you think—? Oh, Kотенок.”

“I was a kid!” Sidney says again, glaring. “Jerk.” He starts suddenly, his mouth dropping open as he blinks up at Evgeni in wonder. “Jerk,” he says. “That’s your soul word, isn’t it? All this time…It’s the first thing I ever called you.”

Evgeni smiles at him. Wordlessly, he takes a step back and removes the cuff from his wrist, holding it up for Sidney to see. They stare at the word for a moment. **JERK**.

Sidney lifts a hand, as if to touch, but lets it fall again before he ever makes contact. “Before, you said you fell in love with me the first time we met. Do you still feel that way?”

He’s so very brave, his kitten, Evgeni thinks, watching the way Sidney’s jaw sets determinedly, fearlessly meeting Evgeni’s eyes this time.

“Yes,” Evgeni says. “Will always love you, Kотенок. _Until the stars fall from the sky, and the sun and the moon no longer shine, until the seas dry up and the flowers waste away, and all that remains on this earth is my_ _love for you_.”

Sidney doesn’t speak much Russian despite Evgeni’s attempts to teach him over the years, but he must recognise the old wedding vows for what it is, the traditional tune the same across all languages.

Sidney sucks in a shaky breath, and this time when Evgeni reaches for him, he meets him halfway. He smiles up at Evgeni, hands lifting to cradle Evgeni’s face, fingers gentle over the bruise already forming on his jaw.

“I love you too,” he says. “Until the stars fall from the sky,” he recites, and, well, Evgeni has spent enough time waiting for a chance to kiss his soul mate.

(Sidney doesn’t try to punch him this time. Evgeni is grateful.)


	15. Sid/Geno - ABO-verse, Activist!Sid, mpreg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid is the first omega in the NHL to announce he’s having a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "It's totally cool with first female! Sid in the NHL! But what do you think about the fact that it doesn't matter wether your female or male, just as long as you're an alpha you're the in NHL? So first omega in the NHL Sidney Crosby? Obviously if you don't like it it's completely understood, I liked the gender swap one you did:))"

So, like, first ever omega in the NHL Sidney Crosby is a Big Deal™ for a long, long time. It’s still a big deal, tbh, even with Stamkos and Tavares and Subban and Seguin and McDavid and Marner and all the ones that followed after, because of the fight Sidney fought for them, because of the road he paved with sweat and tears and blood and sheer will and determination alone.

There’s been a thousand times, more even, over the last decade or so where Sid could have quit, where he thought maybe he should have, and he didn’t. Because that would be the easy way out, and if nothing else, Sidney Crosby never did things the easy way unless it was also the right way.

(The two rarely intersect.)

Sidney is not the only omega on the team anymore. He was though, for years. It was a learning experience more for the alphas than himself.

He’s still laughing at the amount of self-censoring they did that first year, trying to figure out how to reconcile the player on the ice – who was better than all of them, cause that was never in doubt, not ever, not even for his most vicious of hater – with the idea they had of what an omega was; delicate, fragile, someone infinitely breakable.

Sidney hardly had any lovers his first two seasons; his alpha teammates scared them all away, guarding Sid’s virtue like dragons hoarding gold and precious stones. He didn’t care enough to fight them on it then, too busy with hockey and, later, Geno. Besides, it was hilarious watching Knighter and Best Kessel in their high heels and delicate dresses loom over whichever alpha was trying to chat him up. 

It took his teammates a while to realise that but for his ability to bear children, Sid wasn’t much different from them. Instinct is a hard thing to break, though, as are years long habits. But they did it, for him.

Sid will always love them for it, unreservedly. There are still incidents, misconceptions and miscommunications, but they learn from it and they move on.

Hardly anyone gives Sidney a hard time about being an omega anymore. They make up less than 10% of the league, but the few of them that are there are noticeable. And _good_. They’re all so very good.

When the Penguins win their third Cup in the cap era, Sidney is nearly three months pregnant. They’ve kept it quiet, a secret just for the two of them, even though Geno is a terrible secret keeper, and is constantly breaking into smiles whenever he looks at Sidney. He’s a tactile guy normally, and it’s even worse now, always touching Sidney, finger reaching for him almost automatically. Geno drags him into the gravitational pull of his orbit until Sid is never more than a touch away; Geno settles his hand on the small of his back, or rests them over Sid’s still flat stomach, possessive and protective in equal measure. He holds Sidney’s hip, guiding him this way or that way.

It’s nothing new, really, but Flower notices. Phil and Amanda notice, Kuni, Tanger, Dales.

(Knighter is oblivious, but she always is about these things.)

They see Sid and Geno coming out of Dr. Vyas’ office, all smiles, and they suspect. Sidney knows they do, but he doesn’t want to confirm it just yet. He’s pregnant, and that’s just for Sid and Geno right now.

When they break the news after their Cup win and announce that Sidney will miss the next season, he is expecting the outrage. He’s prepared for it, he’s got his facts ready; Sidney was perfectly safe playing until his 12th week of pregnancy, the baby was perfectly safe, nestled inside his bony pelvis and hidden behind his hockey armour. If there had been any danger, whatsoever, Sidney would have ceased playing.

He’d never risk losing his child.

There is outrage, but not really for the reason Sidney was expecting.

_Why_ , people wonder, _after eleven years, is Sidney Crosby the first omega to announce he is expecting? Why have there been no babies before now?_

There’s talk about omegas pressured into abortions by team officials or even their own teammates; there’s talk of miscarriages, of omegas being too scared to lose their roster spots to even disclose their pregnancies.

Tyler Seguin alone could have given birth three times over, Sidney learns, and he cries when he finds out.

There is no paternity leave in the NHL, not even for the birthing parent. There is no pregnancy clauses that protects an omega’s right to have children.

Pregnancy doesn’t fall under the category of injury, but the Penguins have already agreed to give Sidney a special leave of absence.

“Of course you can take time off to have the baby, Sidney,” Mario had said, and Jim had nodded in the background as if anything else was utterly inconceivable to him.

Not every team would grant an omega the same privilege.

Sidney can’t abide by that. He just can’t. And he fought to become the first omega in the NHL, he fought to stay there, fought to be recognised for the talent that he is so that those who came after him wouldn’t have to fight the same battles. He’s a fighter. He’s been fighting almost all his life, it’s what he does, so he’s going to fight now too. He’s going to war and he’s going to win.

Failure is not an option.

“I’m going to sue the NHL,” he tells Geno one morning before training camp. He’s six month pregnant now, is sporting a very noticeable baby bump, and is so bored without hockey he hardly knows what to do with himself. “I want them to adopt paternity leave and include more omega rights.”

Geno raises his brows. “Okay,” he says. “Need help?”

Sidney sputters. “You’re not gonna stop me? You don’t think this is a bad idea?”

“Why bad idea? Should have right. Have different need than alpha, so make sense.”

Sidney is honestly so in love with Geno he struggles to breathe around it sometimes. “Right. I’m gonna go call Pat and get this thing started.”

Geno nods agreeably, presses a kiss to Sidney’s temple, and says, “I’m be at practice if you need me. Love you, go kick NHL butt.”

Which, obviously. 


	16. Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin - ABO-verse, Activist!Sid, mpreg, part 2 of 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same verse as Activist!Sid being the first omega in the NHL.
> 
> Tyler’s 5 + 1 version of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hi Hazel :) First, I love your fics! I was wondering if you were planning on writing more for your First Omega In The NHL!Sid? (I was especially intrigued by the Seguin mention, and Sid going into battle for paternity rights). No pressure or expectations or anything, I just get so excited whenever you post fic that I'm always yearning for more. :)

**1.**

Tyler is fourteen the first time he gets pregnant.

His mother is the only one who knows, and that’s only because she was there at the abortion clinic with him, holding his hand even though she was tight-lipped and red-eyed from the tears she tried so hard to hold back.

Neither of them talks about it after.

**

It’s not the last time he’ll break his mother’s heart.

**

Tyler knows he wasn’t ready to become a dad back then. The abortion had been his idea, something he went to his mother and asked for.

For some reason, that’s the time he regrets the most.

* * *

**2.**

The second time he gets pregnant he’s just won the Cup with the Bruins and he’s pretending it’s his first pregnancy.

Tyler isn’t stupid—he’s _not_ , no matter how much the Boston media likes to portray him as the party-happy dumb jock.

An accidental pregnancy is an accident, but only the first time. Twice is a pattern, always, when it comes to an omega. There are no coincidences, no second chances.

“You can’t play if you’re pregnant, Tyler,” they tell him. “You’re a talented player. It’d be a shame for you to sit on the side lines for a year. And who knows? It could be even longer.”

_Maybe forever_ , they don’t say, even if that’s what an alpha always expects of an omega.

_Get an omega with child and they’ll happily stay in the home._

Tyler hates the old saying, hates the innocuousness of it, as if it’s perfectly reasonable. As if all of his existence can be boiled down to his biological ability to carry children—as if that is the only thing he should aspire to. The only thing he’s good for.

Tyler doesn’t begrudge the omegas who do, those who are happy raising a family and being a homemaker. His mother is like that and she’s always been amazing. Always taken care of him when he’s needed her.

But Tyler is different. Tyer wants _more_. He doesn’t think that makes him a selfish person or a bad omega.

“You can’t play, Tyler,” they tell him, and “You’re a talented player,” and Tyler reads the subtext just fine.

He’s a talented player, but only for as long as he’s playing. He’s only worth something if he’s playing. 

“This is a card to a clinic downtown. They’re discreet, very good. We expect you to make the right choice, Tyler.”

Tyler accepts the card.

* * *

**3.**

The third time is a miscarriage.

It happens over Christmas break, and this time, Tyler is old enough that he doesn’t need his mom with him when he drives himself to the ER.

It’s a complete miscarriage, the doctor tells him, and when she offers her condolences, saying, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Seguin,” Tyler shakes his head.

“I didn’t even know,” he says, and watches her frown sympathetically because she believes the lie. Of course she does—why would an omega lie about something like that?

Only Tyler does, because he’s been ignoring the nausea and the feet that was sore already. The memory of what had happened the last time he told his GM he was pregnant is so vivid in his mind, Tyler has kept it off for as long as possible, trying to buy himself some time to figure out what to do.

In the end, he does nothing.

He doesn’t need to.

* * *

**4.**

The fourth time he tells his team.

They’re in the middle of the playoffs, and they’re _winning_. It feels so much like the 2011 run when they won the Cup, and Tyler wants nothing more than to play, but he remembers the cramps of his miscarriage, of the bleeding that didn’t stop for days, and knows he has to tell.

The team doctors immediately put him on IR and say they won’t let him play as long as he’s pregnant. Tyler had expected it, but it still hurts.

Then his teammates find out and everything becomes so much worse.

He feels gutted by their collective disappointment in him, by the anger he sees in some of their faces when the find out he can’t play—when they find out _why_.

Tyler only told Marchy, and he knows Marchy didn’t mean to spill, but he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut when he’s pissed off and three drinks short of drunk.

Marchy apologises after, he even means it, Tyler thinks, but by then the damage is already done.

Tyler has the abortion everybody wants him to have and is back in time for the final.

They lose in six.

**

An accidental pregnancy is an accident, but only the first time.

**

When the Bruins trade him in the summer, he’s not surprised. He never told them about his miscarriage, but a second pregnancy was all they needed. Twice is a pattern, after all. 

* * *

**5.**

The fifth time, Tyler lets the baby’s father know.

He’s never told any of the fathers before, so he’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting. Yelling, maybe. Disappointment, definitely.

Jamie doesn’t yell, though. He doesn’t look particularly disappointed either. Instead, he looks cautiously optimistic.

“A baby, Ty? We’re having a baby?” Jamie asks, his voice so full of awe that Tyler can’t confuse it for anything else.

He smiles hesitantly when Jamie’s hands find his stomach. He seems so curious, obviously searching for sign of the child inside even if Tyler isn’t big enough to show yet.

“I guess? I mean, if you wanted to, we could probably do this somehow.”

“If _I_ wanted to?” Jamie asks sharply. He tears his gaze away from Tyler’s stomach and looks up to meet his eyes instead. “You don’t want this baby?”

Tyler does want this baby. He wants it with Jamie, but Tyler is smart. He’s learnt from his past.

“I do,” he admits, and watches as Jamie relaxes. “But I’m an omega, Jamie. No team wants a pregnant omega on their roster. I’d have to miss a year _at least_ , and there is no guarantee that I’d even be back after that. No GM wants to deal with that.”

And Jamie must read the truth in his face, because his mouth goes flat and his hands clench into tight fists over Tyler’s stomach. “We’ll think of something,” he says. “We’ll make it work. Jim will understand, Coach will—They traded for you, Ty! They wanted you here, they—”

“They want me as long as I can play,” Tyler finishes, because this is a truth he knows intimately. One he’s almost made his peace with, even.

Jamie draws in a shuddering breath. “We’ll make it work,” he says again, and when Tyler cups his face and brushes the tears escaping his eyes with his thumbs, Jamie leans into his hands.

“Okay,” Tyler says, and for one heart-stopping, precious moment, he believes it.

**

He suffers through another miscarriage two days later.

Tyler cries into Jamie’s shoulder and thinks at least he didn’t have to find out just how much the Stars think he’s worth.

(He’s not sure he would have like the answer.)

**

* * *

**+1.**

“Sid is pregnant?” Tyler asks dumbly when Jamie tells him the news. “But he was just playing. They won the Cup for fuck’s sake! He was _pregnant_?”

Jamie nods, but he’s visibly as dumbfounded as Tyler is. “The press release says the doctors made an assessment and that he was cleared to play. He saw six different specialists, apparently.”

Tyler swallows around the lump in his throat. “What happens now? Is he just taking a year off?”

“Yeah. The Penguins are giving him a special leave of absence. They seem…they seem happy for him.”

Tyler is so stunned, he’s speechless. The concept of being able to take a year off to have a baby, to do it with the support of his team, is so foreign to him he doesn’t even know how to respond.

He heads out for a walk with the dogs just to clear his head, but he finds that he can’t let it go. He keeps thinking about it, about the baby Sid is going to have and the babies Tyler could have had already. He thinks about that first time, when he was fourteen and the choice to have an abortion was all his own.

He wonders if he jinxed himself somehow back then.

If all the religious fanatics are right and Tyler has been punished for his transgression ever since.

After three days of thinking about it, he calls Sid.

He tells him about the two abortions he had at the behest of the Bruins, and the miscarriage he suffered in Dallas due to the stress and fear of how management would react to the news. He keeps the first abortion and the first miscarriage to himself.

Sidney cries for him, and Tyler didn’t call to be pitied, didn’t call for sympathy, but he feels better all the same.

Less alone than before, because there are some things Jamie will never be able to understand no matter how hard he tries. He’s an alpha—he’ll never face the subtle and not so subtle discrimination that Tyler faces every day. The discrimination that every omega endures.

Tyler thinks about Sid and what he sacrificed to be able to play professional hockey, what he sacrificed for _Tyler—_ and every other omega—to be able to play professional hockey, and feels so fucking grateful it’s all he can do not to sob hysterically.

When he gets off the phone, Tyler roots around in the bottom drawer of his nightstand for the pregnancy test he’s had hidden there for the last couple of weeks; he’s been too scared to even look at it.

When he waits for the result with Jamie resting on their bathroom floor next to him, it’s the first time Tyler takes a pregnancy test and doesn’t feel sad or terrified about what this could mean for his future.

Instead, the terror he feels when the test comes back positive is a breathless, anticipatory kind, tempered with joy and happiness because holy shit he’s having a baby—and this one he’s keeping.


	17. Sid/Geno + Patric Hornqvist - Accidental voyer!Patric, outside POV, NSFW (Scream a Little Louder, Baby)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Horny becomes an accidental voyeur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or that one time northisnotup and I wrote different takes on Sid and G being overheard while going at it. She wrote the wonderfully porny C’Mon Cause You Know What I Like, and I somehow ended up with this. This one’s for you, North <3

Patric is dozing, not quite asleep but sluggish enough that his mind is drifting pleasantly.

He feels good, happy with a solid win and body spent in a way that means he’s pushed himself physically, edging at the limits of his physical ability and coming out on the good side of it.

There’s a heavy satisfaction in his limbs, and if Patric was feeling a little more awake, not quite as lazy, he might have pulled out the lube. He might have slicked up his hand and thought of his beautiful wife as he jerked off.

Patric grunts slightly, debating if it wouldn’t be worth it anyway, to push through the lethargy and take care of his growing erection. His wife is a pretty big incentive after all, even if he has to make do with his memories and imagination. Nothing can beat being with Malin in person, but it’s nothing at all for Patric to summon a picture of her in his mind.

She’s devastatingly beautiful his Malin, with a personality to match, and Patric is so hopelessly in love with her he doesn’t even realise his hand has been working itself inside his briefs before his fingers make contact with his hard cock. He grips himself tight, feels a little more alert now, and can practically hear his wife’s voice, asking him to give it to her the way he knows she likes.

Patric groans, swipes his thumb over the head of his cock to gather some of the pre-come there and uses it as a substitute for lube. He can’t be bothered to get out of bed for some actual lube now that he’s getting into it.

He slides his hands down to the base of his cock, fondles his balls a little as he draws up an image of Malin in his mind, relying on sense memory to imagine what she’d feel like riding his lap. “Mhm, yeah, Patric. That feels so good,” she’d say, and Patric would ask her to tell him what she wants, helpless to do anything but to please his wife to the best of his abilities.

“Fuck me, baby,” she’d say. “It’s been too long and I want you inside of me. Please, Geno, don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you what you need,” he murmurs absently, even as something is tugging at the edge of his consciousness. He’s speaking in English. Why is he speaking in English?

“ _Yes_. Oh, God, Geno. That feels so good. Don’t fucking stop!”

 _What_?

Patric’s hand on his dick stills, and he scrunches his face in confusion. _What the hell?_ he thinks as his eyes blink open, feeling more alert now that he’s not distracted with thoughts of his wife.

He hears moaning, someone telling another to fuck them hard, and holy fucking shit, that is Sidney’s voice. That’s his captain announcing just how badly he wants to get fucked. Hard.

Patric’s mouth drops open as he realises that his imaginary Malin’s dialogue might not have been so much the product of his own imagination as it was Patric’s mind picking up on the sounds coming from the wall behind his bed.

The wall that’s adjacent to Geno’s hotel room— _sweet baby Jesus on a tricycle._

Sid and Geno are fucking. Enthusiastically so, by the sounds of it.

Patric feels torn. On the one hand, his teammates, his friends, are fucking in the next room over and being incredibly loud, and incredibly inconsiderate now that Patric is forced to think about it. He would very much like for them to stop so he can get back to his own business, but—

But on the other hand, his captain and alternate are fucking in the next room over and there is no fucking way Patric is going to make any indication that he is aware. He’s already blushing hotly, his pale Swedish skin a bright red as he listens to Sidney’s loud moans.

“Fuck yes, Geno. You’re so big, I love how big you are,” he’s saying, and that is by far more information than Patric cared to know about his teammates ever. There are no secrets in the locker room, so it’s not as if Patric wasn’t aware of Geno’s generous… girth, but he really didn’t need to know Sid’s liberal appreciation of it.

Holy fuck. Why are these walls so thin?

He’s barely finished the thought before, horror of all horrors, there’s an unmistakable thud against the wall, and Patric freezes. He is truly horrified to realise that the rooms are mirrored, and that the headboard of Geno’s bed is now knocking insistently against the wall. It’s such a cliché that Patric can’t quite help the hysterical laugh that escapes his mouth.

“Did you, uh, did you hear something?” Sidney is asking on the other side, and Patric holds his breath. He may possibly die of embarrassment if Sid and Geno ever finds out he heard them. Does this make him a voyeur? Even if he can’t actually see them? Good God, is Patric an accidental voyeur? Is there such a thing?

He hears a soft murmur, Geno’s voice too low for his words to carry, but whatever he says, it must appease whatever concerns Sid has, because the fucking continues, and Sid’s loud moaning with it. Patric holds back a groan.

Now he knows why Flower and Duper were so eager to get the rooms further down the hall, far enough away from Geno’s room that they wouldn’t be able to overhear Sid and Geno going at it. Patric remembers Kuni looking at him apologetically after their team dinner that evening, before the guys dispersed for the night, and he has to hold back another groan at his own obliviousness.

The thuds against the wall get a little more forceful, Sidney’s voice clear as he orders Geno to put his _fucking back into it. Come on! Harder!_

Patric is a little impressed, to be honest. They’ve been going at it for far longer than what his own stamina would have allowed him, he knows.

It’s maybe a little bit hot.

He feels his cock stir in interest, and Patric is up and out of the bed so fast he’s not even thinking about it before he’s inside his shower, gritting his teeth as a spray of cold water washes over him. Patric has always been a little bi-curious, and Sid and Geno are handsome men, or so his wife has informed him several times, but Patric is not, under any circumstances, jerking off to _Sidney Crosby_ and _Evgeni_ fucking _Malkin._

No. Just no.


	18. Sid/OMC, Sid/Geno - Light angst, Negotiation kink, emotional infidelity, NSFW (Plus One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to see you get fucked by another man,” Graham blurts out. He sucks in a deep breath, staring at Sidney cautiously.
> 
> Sidney blinks. And then blinks some more.
> 
> “Right then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon8771 inquired: "Sid/Geno number 1 - spicing things up in the bedroom if you please :)"

Sid and Graham have been in a steady, monogamous relationship for years. They’re homebodies, both of them; sometimes they’ll join Sidney’s teammates for team celebrations or team nights out, and sometimes they’ll attend dinner parties with Graham’s friends, but mostly they stay in.

Neither of them are really party people, and that’s the way they like it.

Their sex life is…okay. It’s steady, settled. There’s maybe not so much fireworks anymore, but it’s good, they know each other’s likes and limitations.

Sidney doesn’t think about it all that much, to be honest. He spends so much time on the road that he’s happy to get off regularly when he’s home. He certainly doesn’t think they’re in a rut, but they are.

Or so Graham tells him.

“I just think we could maybe spice things up a little,” he says, calmly folding up one pair of socks before reaching for another.

Sidney is immediately sceptical. He remembers the time when Carole-Lynne wanted to spice up things between her and Duper; the image of Duper in lace and high heels is forever burned into his retinas. It had been awkward for everyone all around.

“Exactly what are we talking about here?”

Graham sighs. “Sid, it’s a Friday night and we are folding laundry,” he says, looking pointedly at the clothes spread out on the bed. “I’m not saying we should play around with whips and chains or anything like that, but maybe we can have a conversation about something each of us maybe want to try out in bed?”

Sidney balks at the whips and chains reference, but is otherwise nonplussed.

“There’s not really anything I want to try out. I like the sex we’re having. It’s perfectly good sex.”

“That’s exactly my point! Don’t you want great sex? Don’t you want to love it?”

Sidney wouldn’t mind that, sure, but he doesn’t find their current sex life lacking, certainly not something that needs ‘spicing up’ of any kind. He’d thought that Graham felt the same.

Apparently not.

He sighs. “Tell me then, what is it you want to try out?” he asks, because he loves him and wants to make him happy and because he’s pretty sure Graham has a pretty good idea already of what he wants.

“I want to see you get fucked by another man,” Graham blurts out. He sucks in a deep breath, staring at Sidney cautiously.

Sidney blinks. And then blinks some more.

“Right then.”

*

Sidney is a little caught off guard (he’s fucking reeling, but he can deal).

They talk about it, and then talk about it some more. That’s the kind of relationship they have. Honest, frank and supportive.

This is what it boils down to:

Graham wants to see another man fuck him. Something to do about knowing Sidney ‘belongs’ to him and deciding who does and does not get to touch him.

And Sidney?

Is strangely not adversed to it.

He does take some time to think it through, but at the end of it, Sidney can’t deny how hot the thought makes him. His only hiccup is who the guy would be. Sidney would have to be attracted to him, would have to trust him–and there’s a problem, he recognises, because where would they even find such a guy?

“Geno,” Graham says, as if that makes perfect sense.

Sidney stares at him. “You want Geno, my teammate Geno, my alternate capt–”

“Yes, babe,” Graham says patiently. “I do know who Geno is. He’d be perfect for us. You trust him, you’re attracted to him, and he’s not going to say no.”

“That is such a bad idea,” Sidney says, and then, “wait, what? What do you mean he won’t say no?” There is no way Geno would ever agree to fuck–

Graham looks at him, one brow arched as he says, “Geno’s been wanting to fuck you for years. And you like Geno. You like him a lot.”

Sidney frowns at that. “Graham,” he starts, but isn’t quite sure how to finish. The truth is, Graham is not wrong, exactly. At least not about Sidney liking Geno. Liking him a lot, even. But that had been a long time ago and he was with Graham now, had been with him for a while, and Sidney has never been the type to cheat.

He put aside thoughts of Geno years go. Had long since dismissed it as ‘not going to happen.’

“Hey,” Graham says, smiling at him gently. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, Geno is someone that would make you comfortable with this, and I’m not going to make you do something you’re _un_ comfortable with.” He shrugs. “It just seems like a fit.”

“You’re sure about this?” Sidney asks, ignoring for a moment the very real likelihood that Geno would never go along with such a thing. Honestly, where did Graham even get such an idea?

Graham nods firmly, says, “Absolutely sure,” and that is that.

*

Geno, as it turns out, would very much like to fuck Sidney.

“Best ass,” he says, grinning at them, wide and teasing, and this is not at all what Sidney had expected when they’d decided to invited him over for dinner the week before.

Geno glances at Graham before looking back at Sidney. “Graham want to watch, little bit weird, maybe. But no problem, I’m still do.”

Which, Sidney is a lot confused right now.

“Great!” Graham says, and actually looks as if he has to hold back his excitement. “Are you amenable to do this now, or do you have to think about it? Do you have any concerns?”

Sidney’s eyes are wide, looking back and forth between the two of them as they talk out an agreement.

It turns out Geno doesn’t have to think about it, he’s good to go tonight, Graham would like for him to use a condom, and if anyone for whatever reason wants to stop, they’ll stop.

“All agreed?” Graham asks, looking at Sidney expectantly.

He bites his lip, eyes meeting Geno’s warm, kind ones before he nods slowly.

“Agreed.”

*

Being with Geno is a lot different than being with Graham.

Some of it has to do with not having slept with anyone else in three years.

Most of it has to do with Geno, Sidney suspects, gasping as strong hands grab onto the meat of his ass, long fingers teasing at his crack. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily and feeling as if all his nerves are being lit on fire.

He nearly forgets that Graham is watching when Geno pushes him onto the bed, following quickly with his hands and his mouth until they are touching, touching, touching.

Sidney gets lost in it, gets lost in the sex and the pleasure and Geno, blanketing him until nothing else matters, only the feeling of Geno’s mouth on his, his hands on his hips, and his cock, huge and thick inside of him.

When he comes, it’s with Geno’s name on his lips and the sound of his breathing in Sidney’s ear, words he doesn’t understand but that sound soft and sweet, rumbling out of him.

“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Graham says, his voice raw and appreciative, and Sidney blinks and thinks, _oh_.

He’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten about Graham.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, not really agreeing but feeling as if he has to say something anyway.

He looks up at where Geno is still holding himself above him, can still feel his cock, soft now, nestled inside of him. Their eyes meet and something just clicks.

 _Oh_ , he thinks again.

He should never have agreed to this.

“Okay?” Geno asks, gentle as he pulls out of him, starting to look a little concerned at Sidney’s silence.

“Yeah,” Sidney repeats, even though he knows it’s not, because–

He’s not as over Geno as he thought he was.


	19. Sid/Geno - Sex tape, NSFW (The One With series Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the sex tape.

Zhenya would just like to emphasise that, for the record, the sex tape is all Sid’s idea.

He is just the poor fool too besotted and sex dumb to remember just why exactly the two of them making a sex tape is a phenomenally stupid idea.

Zhenya doesn’t really stand a chance. Sidney’s method of persuasion is _effective_ to say the least, and besides, Zhenya has never been very good at denying Sid. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to.

Even so, he is hesitant. He can think of a hundred different reasons why they shouldn’t go through with it, because it’s a bad idea, not least of all because of who they are or the possibility of the tape ending up in the wrong hands.

Sidney counters them all.

“We’ll be apart for months, G. Don’t you want something to help with the separation? Just think about how hot it would be. You can jerk off and watch us fuck at the same time.”

Zhenya releases a strangled groan. Sidney is hardly playing fair. They’ve agreed to be exclusive for as long as they’re fucking, and Zhenya would like to continue their arrangement when he gets back to Pittsburgh for training camp, but he would also like for no one else to fuck Sid in between. That means a sexless summer for him. A tape of himself fucking Sidney would go a long way to carry him through such a hardship.

And it would be a hardship, he thinks. He’s been spoilt with Sid. Not just because of the regular sex, but because the sex is amazing and fun and with Sid, which, Zhenya is coming to realise, is the difference between sex with anyone else.

“Okay,” he says finally, holding back his smile as he watches Sid brighten, grinning smugly in his victory.

“Great!” He darts forward, leans up to press a quick kiss to Zhenya’s mouth, and then he’s turning on his heels. “I’ll get everything set up. Come over to my house tonight, okay?” he says over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

Zhenya stares after him. He’s leaving for Minsk in just a couple of days, but somehow he’s startled to realise that Sid planned for them to do it tonight.

He shakes his head. Never let it be said that Sidney Crosby is not a man of action.

*

Zhenya lets himself into Sidney’s house later that night and is summarily ordered upstairs. He grumbles under his breath about impatient captains as he removes his outerwear and lines up his shoes on the shoe rack just so. Sidney is very particular about his shoe rack.

“Why in such hurry?” he asks when he makes his way into the master bedroom, only to stop up short in the doorway. “Fuck,” he curses, watching Sidney lounge back on the bed, naked and stroking his dick in slow, teasing glides.

“You’re not naked,” Sid complains, and his whining is enough to jerk Zhenya into movement.

“Most impatient,” he says fondly as he lifts his sweater over his head.

Sidney spreads his legs in answer, and Zhenya really should not be casting stones in glasshouses, he thinks, when he almost brains himself on the floor in his haste to get out of his jeans.

Sidney bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Geno!” He’s clutching at his sides, turning red all over he is laughing so hard.

“Shut up!” Geno tells him, but he’s grinning when he climbs onto the bed, collapsing over Sid just to hear him groan in protest.

“Get off,” Sidney says through his giggles, pushing lazily at Zhenya’s shoulders.

Zhenya shakes his head before burying his face into the crook of Sidney’s neck. “No,” he says, though it comes out all mumbled. “I’m comfy.”

Sidney doesn’t say anything to that. He sighs a little, his hands moving to stroke through Zhenya’s hair in short, soothing movements.

It feels good, and Zhenya wouldn’t mind staying right there, cuddling Sid for as long as he’ll let him.

Then again, he is naked, and Sid is naked, and Zhenya’s dick has always been a huge fan of naked Sid. To be frank, Zhenya and his dick are huge (hah!) fans of Sid’s _everything_ , but the nudity doesn’t hurt. His cock is quickly making its presence known and Zhenya can’t help but grind his crotch against Sidney’s, groaning into the smooth skin under his lips.

Sid gasps. “Geno.” He tightens his grip on Zhenya’s hair, hips moving up against the press of Zhenya’s downward grind.

Zhenya peppers his neck with kisses, grinning at the breathy moans Sid can’t hold back. He likes that Sidney is loud in bed. Likes that he makes him loud.

“Where is camera?” he asks, belatedly remembering that they were supposed to make a sex tape.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sidney says. He sounds distracted. Zhenya is pleased. “It’s already set up.”

He blinks at that, pushing up onto his hands to look down at Sid. “What?” And when Sidney lifts his brows, reaching over Zhenya to point at the camera attached to the tripod by the side of the bed, Zhenya gapes.

He hadn’t noticed it at all when he fist came in, too distracted by the sight of Sid lying naked on the bed.

“Are you having second thought?”

Zhenya looks back at Sid; he looks as sure as ever, maybe a little worried for Zhenya’s sake.

“No,” Zhenya says, and smiles. “No second thoughts.”

Sidney breaks into a grin. He tilts his head up for a kiss, and Zhenya obliges, helpless as always. He feels Sidney bite his lip, and gasps, letting Sid fuck his tongue into his mouth.

Zhenya sneaks a hand between their bodies, closing his hand around Sid’s cock in retaliation. Sidney’s hips stutter, and he moans into Zhenya’s mouth.

“What you want, Sid?” Zhenya asks him, his hand sliding up and down Sidney’s dick just the way he knows he likes it. “Want me to suck you? Or maybe I’m fuck your hole with my tongue, hm?”

Sidney doesn’t answer, just spreads his legs to better accommodate Zhenya’s body, arching his back when Zhenya’s hand leaves his cock and ventures behind his balls.

Zhenya groans when his fingers make contact with Sid’s rim. He’s already slick.

“Or you want something else? I’m think something bigger,” he says, pushing teasingly at the rim but keeping his fingers from sliding in. “Such a good boy, Sid. Already stretch for me.” He feels his cock jump in interest, thinking of how good Sid must have looked, fingering himself in preparation for Zhenya’s cock.

“Yes,” Sidney says, running his hands up and down Zhenya’s back. “Fuck me, Geno. Want to feel you inside of me. Want to look at the tape later and remember how good I felt, stretched out on your cock.”

Zhenya stills for a second, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from coming. God, but he loves Sidney’s dirty talk, loves how filthy he is.

They’ve been doing this long enough that they don’t use condoms anymore, but Zhenya still needs lube. Won’t be satisfied until he’s added his own prep; Sidney likes an extra burn and will sometimes not prep quite enough, and while that is hot too, Zhenya wants to draw it out. He wants Sidney to ride his fingers, to bring him to the brink and then pull back, leave him wanting more.

“Where you put the lube, Sid?”

Sidney shakes his head, lifting his legs to fit them around Zhenya’s waist. “Don’t need more prep. I’m already stretched good enough.”

Zhenya bends down, closing his mouth over Sidney’s for a long, wet kiss. “I’m decide when good enough,” he says when they break apart, and Sidney sighs, but reaches behind himself.

“Here,” he says, extracting the lube from underneath his pillow.

Zhenya grins. “Thank you,” he says, makings sure to be as obnoxious as possible, and grunts out a laugh when Sidney squeezes his legs around him in punishment.

He coats his fingers liberally, smearing some lube around Sid’s hole too for good measure, laughing when Sid curses at him for not warming up the lube first.

Zhenya snickers, because he’s a jerk, but he makes up for it soon enough, placing two fingers against Sid’s entrance. He pushes in carefully, and is rewarded by Sid clenching down, hips chasing after Zhenya’s fingers when he pulls back.

“Ngh,” Sid says, and Zhenya smirks at his incoherence, pushing his fingers back in. He fucks him like that for a few seconds, letting Sid ride his fingers until he caves and begs for another.

“More, G. I can handle another one. Come on. I want it.”

Zhenya pulls out so just the tip of his middle finger rests inside Sid, squeezing out more lube onto his hand before driving right back in with three fingers, then four, Sidney moaning his approval all the while.

Zhenya’s eyes are riveted to the spot where his fingers disappear inside Sid’s ass. He curls his fingers, searching for Sid’s prostate. He has to to clamp his free hand around his dick when he finds the spot and Sid grunts in pleasure.

“Geno, I swear to God, if you don’t get in me–”

“Shh,” Zhenya coos at him. He gently pulls his fingers out and slaps his hand against the meat of Sidney’s ass. “Come on, babe,” he says, helping Sid unwound his legs from around his waist. “Turn around, want to fuck from behind.”

Sid is all eager limbs as he flips over on the bed, dangerously close to kicking Zhenya in the balls in the process.

He forgets to be annoyed when Sid pushes his ass into the air, resting his head on his folded arms as he arches his back invitingly.

“Fucking hell,” Zhenya curses in Russian, and reaches out to give Sid’s ass another smack just because. “You look so good like this, Sid,” he continues, getting to his knees behind him. “So fucking good for me.” He reaches for the lube, slicking up his cock and giving it a few quick jerks before he guides it to Sidney’s hole. “You want?” he asks, switching back to English, loving the way Sidney pushes back against his cock in answer and reaches down to stroke his own dick.

“Fucking get on with it,” he says, and Zhenya’s laugh tapers off into a broken groan when he slams his hips forward, fucking into Sidney’s tight heat.

It feels as if they’ve built up to it forever tonight, and Zhenya is less than gentle when he pulls back only to slam right back in.

He leans over Sidney’s back, pressing a kiss just behind his ear. “This is all I’ll get to have of you all summer. But it’s not just the memories is it? I’ll get to see it too, I get to watch the tape, see myself fucking into your pretty ass, see how much you love it. You do, don’t you, baby? You love having my cock inside of you so much. You’re a slut for it, aren’t you? My little cock slut.“

Sid can’t understand him; he’s speaking in Russian, but he must know the words Zhenya whisper into his ear are all filth, because he pushes back against Zhenya, asking to be fucked harder. He is a mess of stuttering gasps beneath him, but he is still Sid, still demanding in the way he seeks out his pleasure.

Zhenya groans, and it’s so good, he’s too close to hold off much longer. He leans back, clamping his hands around Sid’s hips and just fucks into him. "Sid,” he says through his panting breaths. “Gonna come, I’m gonna–”

“Yes,” Sid hisses. “Come inside of me.”

Zhenya does. He fucks into Sidney one more time before he comes, thinking he’ll die from how good it feels, from the way Sid’s hole flutters uselessly around him.

He collapses forward, resting his forehead against the middle of Sid’s back, reaching one hand around him to join the one Sid has jerking his cock until he comes, spilling over both their hands.

Zhenya kisses the sweaty skin beneath his lips and then falls to his side next to Sidney.

Sid turns his head to look at him, a small, satisfied smile playing on his full lips. “I think we can say that was a success.”

Zhenya nods silently, swiping a lock of hair away from his forehead, and then winces when he leaves behind a trail of come and lube.

Sidney giggles at him. “We should shower,” he says. He reaches out, smears his own fingers across the mess on Zhenya’s skin. “Get you cleaned up. Me too.”

It takes a while before Zhenya feels as though he can move again; he’s always a little sex dumb after good sex, and sex with Sid always is.

They do make it into the shower eventually, fooling around as much as getting clean. They know it’s the last time they’ll be together for some time, and Zhenya is suddenly stupidly glad that they made the tape.

He imagines it’s going to be his new favourite movie, and it is too.

He watches it almost everyday, finding that it helps when he’s missing Sid too much, when texts and stolen minutes on Skype is not enough. It’s hotter than he thought it would be. Zhenya doesn’t think he’s jerked off this much since he first discovered what his dick was for.

It’s enough to get him through the summer, he thinks. That is until Sidney calls unexpectedly one day, and guiltily tells him about how he’s loaned the camera to Mario.

“So?” Zhenya asks carelessly. “Remove video after saving to computer, right?”

Sidney doesn’t answer, and as the silence stretches, Zhenya feels dread fill his insides. “You forgot!” he accuses, and groans when Sidney bursts into a jumble of excuses and apologies.

Mario Lemieux has a copy of his sex tape, Zhenya realises, horrified, and feels a little part of him shrivel up and die.


	20. Sid/Geno - (The One With series Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with no lube.

“Uhm, there’s no more lube,” Geno says, and sounds appropriately offended by this.

Sidney’s eyes fly open in outrage, and his hands still on the inside of his thighs.

“ _What_?”

Geno shakes his head, looks up from where he’s been rooting inside Sid’s bag and fucking _glares_ at him, as if this is all his fault. “You forget bring new lube!”

Which, yeah, now that Sid thinks about it, is pretty much his fault. He’d been put on lube duty this time around.

“Well, fuck,” he says, and collapses back against the bed. “You have to go get some then.”

Geno scowls at him; he looks ridiculous, standing naked in the middle of Sid’s hotel room, pale skin shivering in the cold of the room as his hard-on starts to wilt. “I’m not have to get. You do,” he tells Sidney. “ _You_ on lube duty.”

They stare at each other, Sidney lifting his brows in disbelief when Geno remains steadfast.

He props himself up on his elbows. “Are you serious right now? You want _me_ to get us lube?”

Apparently he does, and five minutes later, Sid is sneaking out of his own room, wearing only a pens shirt and Geno’s shorts. They look obscene on him, too small for the swell of his ass and the thickness of his thighs. Sidney will die if anybody catches him like this.

He’ll never hear the end of it.

He pauses for a few seconds in the hallway, looking left and then right, debating his course of action. He could go knock on Perry’s room. He knows Perry likes to rub one out in the evenings, releasing all the tension built up from stress during the day. Sid knows he’ll have lube, but he also knows that Perry will ask questions, because Perry has been hanging out with Tanger, and just no. No, no, no.

Geno and Sid have been secretly dating for a couple of months now and it’s been great. It’s been amazing, actually. Sid thinks that is in large part because no one knows about them and therefore cannot interfere.

Jesus, there would be so much interfering if the French-Canadians were to find out.

He shakes his head. Better head right then. He is fairly certain he can bully Desi or maybe Polly into going out and getting him some lube from the local store near the hotel. Sid would do it himself, but, well, they’re in Calgary, so no.

Sidney can’t even buy groceries in Canada without being stopped every five steps; there is no way he is going into a store for lube only.

He trudges down the hallway, trying to remember Desi’s room number while simultaneously figuring out what the hell he can use as an excuse for why he needs the lube. It needs to be something that doesn’t involve Geno, obviously, but he can’t just say he wants to jerk off and is out of lube either.

For one thing, that would be weird, because why would Sid go see Desi about that of all people (Flower or Tanger would be much more logical). And second, for reasons that Sidney actively tries not to think about ever, pretty much all of the guys know that Sid does not like the feel or consistency of lube on his dick.

“Sid? What are you doing here? And what the hell are you wearing?”

Sidney’s eyelids flutter. “Desi, hi.”

Simon stares back at him, lifting his brows in question as he leans against the door frame. Sidney doesn’t even remember knocking or even Simon opening the door.

“I need lube!” he blurts out, and then steels his resolve, his face settling into a mask of neutrality as he forces himself to keep from closing his eyes in humiliation. He can’t take the words back; he’s already said them. He needs to commit now. Commitment is everything. It will (hopefully) mask his complete mortification and utter lack of confidence right now.

“Wh-what?” Desi stutters in disbelief, his arms falling to his sides from here they’d been folded across his chest.

“Lube,” Sid says decisively. “I need some. More specifically, I need _you_ to get me some.” He puts on his best _I am the captain do as I say_ face, but when Simon gets over his initial surprise, he looks distinctly unimpressed.

Sidney holds back a sigh. He’s glad Desi has gotten over the starry eyes and reservation that all rookies first bring to the league, but he misses being able to cower him with just a look.

No respect anymore, Geno would have complained mournfully if he’d been there, and Sid would have nodded along just to placate him.

Speaking of Geno…

“So, the lube,” Sid reiterates, “get some for me? Please?”

Desi finally does, but not without grumbling loudly and assuring Sid that, “You owe me so much for this. _Jesus_. Can’t believe I’m buying lube for Sidney fucking Crosby.”

Left alone in a secluded corner of the hotel lobby, waiting for Desi to return, Sid can’t help but giggling a little to himself at the absurdity of the whole thing; Geno better appreciate what it took to get this lube.

Sid enters his room intending to say so, clutching the lube triumphantly in one hand. He stops up short however, because, “You have _got_ to be kidding me!”

Geno is asleep on the bed.

He’s sprawled out in sleep, still naked with the covers pulled up to his waist. Sidney can see his left foot dangling off the side of the bed.

He wilts at the sight.

He could wake him up, that is probably what Geno would have done if their roles were reversed. He’s an asshole like that. Sid is tired though, and Geno looks comfy. Besides, the mood is gone anyway, and Sid knows they’ll find use for the lube soon enough.

“Sid?” Geno mumbles, barely distinct when Sidney climbs into bed, snuggling close to Geno’s side before pulling at the covers, cocooning them inside the warm, soft duvet. It will end up on the floor eventually. Geno is like a furnace.

“Go back to sleep,” Sid whispers, pressing a quick kiss to Geno’s mouth. Geno hums in contentment, chasing after Sidney’s lips.

“Get lube?” he asks when they break apart, his hands moving under the covers, finding Sid’s hip and squeezing once.

Sid smiles. “Yeah. We’ll use it later, eh?”

Geno hums again, tightening his grip on Sidney before going slack. He’s asleep in seconds.

Sid’s smile turns fond, and he reaches out, stroking the tips of his fingers across Geno’s sleeping face.

Earlier, when they were just fucking, before they developed what Sid is now proud to call a relationship, he would have been annoyed at Geno for falling asleep like this. Especially after the whole lube ordeal.

Now though, now Sidney appreciates moments like these as much as the sex. Moments where there is nothing but him and Geno, just being close and together.

He’s much less appreciative when Simon sees him at team breakfast the next morning, smile more sly than Sidney has ever seen it as he says loudly, “So, did you get to use the lube?”

The guys burst into hollers and laughter, and Geno, the fucker, joins them heartily.

Sid scowls.

Hockey players are assholes.


	21. Sid/Geno - Kid!fic, Domestic fluff (The One With series Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with Estelle.

It’s only because it is an emergency and everyone else is busy, Flower assures him multiple times, that Zhenya ends up being Estelle’s babysitter on a Monday afternoon.

Usually, Sid could be trusted for emergency babysitting duties when their regular one flaked out on them for whatever reason, but Sid was at Consol for some kind of promotional event, and Zhenya really is their last possible option.

“I swear to God, Geno. I will fucking murder you if anything happens to her.”

Zhenya rolls his eyes at the threat and bounces the little girl on his hip. She giggles gleefully.

“I’m best babysitter,” he says, because he fucking is. Zhenya is a champ at babies and small kids. He changed more diapers than he cares to remember when he lived with the Gonchars. “Will be fine,” he adds soothingly, clamping his free hand down on Flower’s shoulder in comfort.

Flower sags a little under the weight, and his hands clench and unclench, as if he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out for his daughter.

“Hey. It will be fine. You see.” Zhenya tries to sound more confident than he is, but the truth is he doesn’t know. No one knows until they get to the hospital and Vero can be checked out.

Flower looks like he appreciates the effort regardless.

“I’ll keep you updated, okay?” Flower says tiredly. “I don’t know when we’ll be back–”

“Hey,” Zhenya cuts him off. “Is fine. Estelle and me hang out today. No problem. We have best time.”

Flower’s lips press into a thin, worried line, but he nods. He leans over, pressing a kiss to Estelle’s hair and mumbles to her in French. “You be a good girl for Uncle Geno,” he tells her when he’s straightened back up, and with a rushed goodbye, he’s walking down the driveway.

Zhenya closes his hand around Estelle’s tiny wrist, and bobs it up and down in a short wave, waiting until Flower backs the car out onto the street before turning and heading into his house.

“Your Mama will be fine,” he tells Estelle, tightening his grip on her. “You see. Just see doctor to make sure.”

It was Vero’s appendix, they thought. Doubly dangerous because of her pregnancy, Flower had told him miserably.

Zhenya could only pray everything would be okay.

He walks into his den, settling down on the couch with Estelle on his lap before reaching for the TV remote. “We watch Russian drama, yes? Is best show.”

Estelle seems unconvinced, but she leans back into Zhenya’s hold happily enough, content to listen while Zhenya explains the plot to her as she sucks on her thumb.

It’s not long before she’s fast asleep, drooling into Zhenya’s t-shirt with great prejudice. It says a lot about him that he’s not even disgusted, Zhenya thinks. Though he doesn’t understand how anyone could be. Estelle is adorable. Nothing like her annoying father.

Zhenya must be lulled to sleep by the sound of her slow breathing and the familiarity of his native language on the screen, because the next thing he knows he feels the couch dip next to him and someone’s hand stroke gently through his hair.

He’s slow to open his eyes, taking the time to assure himself that Estelle is still safely asleep in his arms.

“Hi,” he hears, and that voice is familiar too. Beloved, even.

He turns his head, tired eyes landing on Sid’s smiling face. He looks unbearably fond.

“Hey,” Zhenya rasps out. He swallows, wincing at the dryness of his mouth.

Sid laughs at him, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Sleeping on the job, eh? Thought you were ‘best babysitter’.”

“I’m best babysitter!” Zhenya protests. He narrows his eyes at Sidney’s innocent look. “Flower call?”

“Yeah,” Sidney says. “He’s really worried. I said I’d check on you guys when I was done at Consol.”

Zhenya snorts. “Would have come here anyway.” He’s got one hand splayed across Estelle’s stomach, but he lifts his other arm, settling it around Sid and drawing him close.

Sid sighs happily, resting his head against Zhenya’s shoulder. “But Flower doesn’t know that,“ he points out.

It’s true. No one knows they’re dating yet. Zhenya thinks they might be ready to tell soon. He knows Sid wants to, and he does too, but they need to be sure.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, until Estelle wakes from her nap and starts fussing. Her annoyance with the world is momentarily put on hold when she discovers Sid, and then her face breaks into a wide grin.

It’s adorable.

"Sid, Sid, Sid,” she chants, straining against Zhenya’s hold and stretching her short, chubby arms towards Sidney.

He laughs at her. “Hey, princess,” he says, closing his hands around her and pulling her into a standing position on his lap. She digs her heels into Sidney’s thighs, giggling at the faces he’s making at her. “Sid, Sid. Want 'rooni.”

“Macaroni,” Sid says for Zhenya’s benefit. “She’s hooked on mac and cheese.”

“Have pasta in cabinet, maybe,” Zhenya says, smiling as he watches them. There’s a tight feeling inside his chest, the same one he gets every time he thinks about having kids of his own one day. It’s an increasingly familiar sensation. Especially since he got serious with Sid.

“Come on.” He climbs to his feet, stretching to the get the stiffness out of his limbs. “We eat in kitchen.”

It turns out he does have pasta, though the cooking is significantly easier than the eating part, apparently.

“I’m like this shirt,” Zhenya says mournfully, poking at the tomato sauce staining the front of his shirt. He could deal with the drool, but the red better come out. He sighs sadly. Estelle has excellent aim, he’s learnt. She’ll be a good forward; maybe now a Fleury will finally put the puck in the net. He brightens as he thinks about it. He’ll be sure to mock Flower about it.

Sidney is giggling helplessly, and Estelle shoves her spoon into her mouth victoriously. “So does Estelle,” Sid manages to say finally, and holds his hand up to Estelle for a high-five.

Zhenya watches her slap her palm against Sidney’s with what he can only describe as smug superiority, and hates that he is the one who taught her that in the first place.

Sidney leaves Estelle to her food, and walks around the table, plopping down onto Zhenya’s lap, casual as you please. “Hey,” he says quietly, his smile small and fond.

Zhenya grins and wraps his arms around his waist. “Hi.”

They stare at each other stupidly before Estelle realises no one is paying attention to her and launches a spoonful of macaroni at the back of Sidney’s head.

Zhenya almost kills himself laughing at the shocked look on Sid’s face.

Sid is still grumbling about it when Flower and Vero shows up later, much to Zhenya’s amusement; not even his pout can keep Zhenya from relaying the incident, cackling gleefully while Flower chirps Sid mercilessly.

They hand over Estelle with assurances that she’s been good, really, and in return are told that Vero is fine. The doctors have concluded that she has gallstones, and they will treat the symptoms and wait until after the birth to remove the gallbladder.

Vero says she’s just glad it wasn’t her appendix. They would have operated on her despite the pregnancy then.

“I’m glad Vero and the baby are okay,” Sid says after they’ve gone to bed, later when the Fleurys have left.

Zhenya hums. “Me too. Should buy her something nice. Make he feel better.”

Sid pokes at his cheek, smiling when Zhenya grumbles at him, catching his hand in his before rearraging them until he’s satisfied, spooning back against Sid.

“She’ll like that, I think,” Sid says, pushing back into Zhenya’s hold. He’s quiet for a while, and then he says, “We should get her something together. Not as friends, but from us. From Sid and Geno, the couple.”

Zhenya freezes. “You-you want to? Tell friends and family about us?”

Sid turns in his arms. He’s biting his lip, looking a little nervous. “I love you,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s told Zhenya those words. “I want the people I care about to know that too.”

“Love you too,” Zhenya blurts out; the words have been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. He’s wanted so badly to tell Sidney, but he’d known it had been too soon, that he had to wait until Sid was ready to hear it. “Love you most.” He is ready now. He’s been ready for a while, Zhenya thinks.

The smile that breaks out on Sidney’s face is beautiful, Sidney is beautiful, and Zhenya doesn’t know how he could ever love him more.

But he’s looking forward to find out.


	22. Sid/Geno + Pascal Dupuis - Team as family, friendship (The One With series Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One With All the Yellow Crocs

Every once in a while, there is a rookie trying to make his mark on the roster by doing something special. Some guys, like Borts, do it by showing their physicality, others, like Sid and Geno, dazzled them all with that insane skill of theirs.

And then there are the ones who want to show their worth, their guts, by going after the top dog in one form or another. Sidney, by virtue of his captaincy, is the Penguins’ top dog by default.

Duper knows Sid usually doesn’t mind when the young guys come in and try to one-up him, mostly because Sid is so far out of their league their attempts at outdoing him are laughable at best, but then there is that one guy who figures a prank is the way to go.

Pranking the captain is the way to notoriety, they think, and maybe it would be if it hadn’t been for Duper, Flower, and Geno foiling all such pranks throughout the years. 

Duper and Flower are, of course, infamous pranksters (rarely is their involvement actually proven); they’re both jerks, really, but if some kid thinks he can come into _their_ locker room and prank _their_ captain, then they have another thing coming. Geno heartily approves of this philosophy, because he’s always enjoyed pulling at Sid’s metaphorical pigtails, but God help anyone else who dares. They don’t call him the Russian bear for nothing. 

Sid isn’t having much of a training camp, neither is Geno, but they’re around often enough, working out off the ice or offering advice to the other guys. Well, Sid is. Geno is his usual asshole self, swaggering around and chirping the guys more than anything else. He seems to be in good spirits despite his injury–Duper thinks it has to do with being back in Pittsburgh after a much-needed summer break. Or maybe it’s being back with Sid, specifically, that’s got Geno in such a good mood. Geno is a fool if he thinks no one knows about his massive boner for their captain, and while Sid is much better at hiding his emotions, Duper thinks Geno’s feelings might not be unrequited.

Duper is vaguely contemplating if he shouldn’t set Sid and Geno up with each other for a blind date. It’d be hilarious, he thinks, but they’d also be good together if they’d just get their heads out of their asses. He feels himself warming to the idea, thinks it could have some merit, and is wondering whether or not to bring Flower in on it when he’s stopped on his way to the rink by Sid. He’s barefoot, Duper observers, and his brows shoot up in surprise.

Sidney has strong feelings about cold feet, and for all that it is a hot summer in Pittsburgh, the floor is not.

“Hey,” he says. “You haven’t seen my crocs, have you?”

“They’re not by your stall?”

“No. I think someone might have taken them,” Sidney says with a rueful shake of his head, only his clenched fists revealing how bothered he is by that, and Duper is momentarily so stunned at such a concept (not even Flower or him would ever think to mess with Sid’s crocs) that it takes him a second to notice Geno walking up to them.

“Sid,” he says, and uh uh, Duper thinks; Geno sounds furious. “Think I’m find where crocs is, but you not gonna like.”

Sidney frowns. “Show me,” he says, and then Sid and Duper follow Geno as he leads them towards the rink. They step through the tunnel and, oh. Wow.

Duper is grudgingly impressed, and he probably would have found it hilarious if not for the way Sidney is looking three seconds away from a legitimate panic attack.

Practice won’t start for another fifteen minutes, but it’s obvious that someone showed up early to execute the prank. Duper has no clue who the culprit is, but he has to admit he’s creative; it looks like a shoe store threw up on the ice. A shoe store whose only stock is yellow crocs. They litter the ice, in all sizes and various shades of yellow.

There is no doubt in Duper’s mind that somewhere among them is Sid’s pair.

“Well, fuck,” he says. Where the hell would someone even get this many pairs of crocs? There has got to be hundreds of them. Duper notices the crocs doesn’t seem to be paired by their matching half, staring at one he thinks might be close to Sid’s size and the small, child-sized croc next to it.

“What the fuck is this?” they hear a gruff voice ask behind them, and they turn to see Rick glaring out at the ice. “Practice is about to start! Get this shit off the ice!”

In the few days he’s known him, Duper has come to learn that Rick Tocchet is a man that takes no shit; not even Sid is a big enough deterrent to keep him from having the crew clear the crocs off the ice.

Duper winces as he watches the crew gather all the crocs into a big heap before shoving them into black trash bags and carrying them off the ice.

Sidney manages to keep the scowl off his face as he politely asks the crew to deposit the bags in the locker room, so he can sort through them in search of his missing pair, and while it’s unlikely they would have refused him in the first place, they certainly don’t with Geno looming behind Sid and glaring at them as if daring them to deny him.

Duper shakes his head. “Hey,” he says, catching Sid’s elbow before he can disappear through the tunnel. “I’ll find out who did it. Then we’ll help you look if you still haven’t found your crocs after practice.”

Sid gives him a sharp nod in gratitude before he walks off with Geno in tow.

Mike’s whistle blows, signalling the start of practice, and Duper joins the others on the ice. They’re practicing rushes, and as Duper circles the ice, he keeps his eyes and ears open. It doesn’t take him long before he figures out who the culprit is.

Duper has to admit he doesn’t remember the guy’s name. He’s young though, skating with a smugness he hasn’t earned yet. Watching him, Duper can already tell he won’t make the roster. In fact, he thinks the guy will be cut fairly soon.

He skates up to Tanger, shoving his shoulder against his in a friendly nudge. “Hey. The guy over there, next to Sunshine. You know his name?”

Tanger, who is weirdly good with names, turns to follow Duper’s gaze. He nods. “Ron Beckes. I don’t like him. He keeps swaggering around as if he owns the place.”

Duper nods in agreement. “He’s the one who pulled the prank. I’m sure of it.”

Tanger spares him a brief look before his face goes frighteningly blank, eyes narrowing on the kid. “Well then,” he says. “Let’s go have a little chat with Monsieur Beckes.”

Duper is right, of course (not that he ever doubted), and initially the kid is all bravado, boasting about his clever prank and how he pulled it off. It _was_ clever, Duper will give him that, but he chose the wrong target. Duper and Tanger–mostly Tanger–make sure he knows.

The kid isn’t totally hopeless, and when he figures out he’s messed up pretty bad, he quickly reveals that he put a strip of white tape on the soles of Sidney’s crocs. They just have to look at the bottom of the shoes to figure out which is Sid’s.

When practice wraps up, Duper is sure to dismiss the kid. He’d force him back to the locker room to help sort through the crocs if he didn’t think Sid would genuinely be upset to have him there.

He walks into the locker room intending to relay the information about the white tape, but it appears he’s not needed.

Geno is standing in the middle of the room among a sea of yellow crocs, brandishing a pair in his hands that looks to be Sid’s. He waves them in the air triumphantly, and Duper can see the white tape on the soles.

He’s about to congratulate Geno on a job well done when Sid exclaims, “You found them!” The look he sends Geno makes _Duper_ a little hot under his collar.

Geno preens under the praise. “Of course I’m find for you. I’m best.”

Sidney smiles softly, and he’s all fondness when he says, “Yes. Yes you are.”

Duper blinks, looking from Sid to Geno and then back again. Huh, he thinks.

Maybe he won’t need to send them on that blind date after all.


	23. Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin - Phone sex, Secret relationship, NSFW (Breathing Over the Line)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See, Tyler has just won gold, okay? Gold, for team Canada and Sidney Crosby. And Tyler had been on his knees for Sidney Crosby, drinking champagne out of the World Cup trophy, and he’s never felt quite so Canadian in all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: "Hi! This is the anon about jamie/tyler from the other day! I’m kind of embarrassed by my idea. But here it goes.. Basically they are sneaking behind doors being together and jordie catches them in the act. Jamie is embarrassed but tyler just laughs"

The fooling around starts kinda accidentally. It’s not even Tyler’s fault. Not really.

(Well. It’s his fault maybe a little bit.)

See, Tyler has just won gold, okay? Gold, for team Canada and Sidney Crosby. And Tyler had been on his kneesfor Sidney Crosby, drinking champagne out of the World Cup trophy, and he’s never felt quite so Canadian in all his _life_.

“It’s just, _gold_ , Jamie,” Tyler breathes into the phone, later, in an alley outside the club they’ve been celebrating at for hours already. “We won gold, and fucking destroyed the competition. Man, you should have been here.”

“I wish I had been,” Jamie says, sounding wistful and a little envious. “Playing for Canada, with the guys, with _Sid–_ ”

“Fucking _Sidney Crosby_ ,” Tyler says reverently. It’s stupid and ridiculous and he’s not sure how to put it into words, but Sid is Sid. Their captain, _Sidney Crosby_ ; it’s so easy to equate him with Canada and playing for Canada and what that means and–

They’re all a little stupid about Sid. Even Claude.

“Fuck, yeah.”

Tyler swallows. Jamie’s voice has gone low and raspy, as if he is getting turned on by this.

“Yeah?” Tyler asks, interested now.

Sid is off limits, they all know that; he’s got his own complicated thing with Malkin, and they all know better than to get in the middle of that. But Jamie. Jamie has no such complications. Jamie is interested too, Tyler thinks.

He racks up his T-shirt and sneaks his hand into his jeans. He’s not wearing any underwear, and when his fingers close around his dick, half hard already, he can’t hold back his strangled moan.

“Shit,” Jamie curses over the line. “Are you? Are you–?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Tyler groans, gripping his dick harder with only sweat to ease the way as he starts moving his hand up and down. His fingers clenches around the phone.

“Fuck, Tyler. Ty.” Jamie’s breathing has gone shallow, loud, short exhales filling Tyler’s ear.

Tyler screws his eyes shut. He closes his ears to the sounds of the heavy club music he can hear even out there in the alley, leaning back against the wall as his world narrows down to his hand around his dick and Jamie’s breath in his ear.

“Jamie,” he says. “Jamie, I’m coming, I’m–”

“Do it. Come on, baby, come for me. Let me hear you come. Let me hear you say my name.”

And Tyler does. He comes, spilling into his hand with Jamie’s name on his tongue, and a plea for more. Much more.

“Soon,” Jamie promises. “When you get back, and when my hips have healed, I’m gonna–”

He stops, maybe realising where the line is, the line they’ve been toeing ever since Tyler was traded to Dallas. The line they’ve already crossed, just with this one phone call.

Jamie is hesitating, but Tyler is already on edge, at the edge. He just needs one little push to go over. He just needs to know. He has to know.

“You’re gonna what?”

“Ty…”

“You’re gonna what, Jamie? Tell me.”

Jamie is silent for a moment. Finally, he says, “I’m gonna give you more. Gonna give you what you want, Ty.”

Tyler moans loudly. He feels sex dumb and oversensitive. He feels giddy.

“Soon,” he says, and Jamie answers, “soon.”

 _Soon_ turns out to be almost three months later, when they’re both back in Dallas and Jamie has been cleared for contact, for _strenuous activity._

Tyler really, really approves of any and all strenuous activity. So does Jamie, often and enthusiastically, and not always carefully.

“What the fuck?” Jordie exclaims, just as Jamie thrusts forward into Tyler and Tyler moans long and loud.

“What the fuck?” Jordie says again. “Seriously? _Seriously?_ ”

And maybe a quickie on Jamie’s couch hadn’t been the best idea when they knew Jordie was coming over for dinner, but dammit, Tyler had had trouble remembering all the reasons why when Jamie had pushed him onto the couch before going down on him, and it’s not like Tyler is one to ever decline sex, ever.

Jordie curses at them, one hand slapped over his eyes as he starts backing out of the living room while Jamie goes beet red and scrambles off of Tyler, reaching for the nearest piece of clothing.

It turns out to be Tyler’s snapback, which he hastily holds over his still hard cock, much to Jordie’s horror and Jamie’s embarrassment.

Tyler starts laughing. He can’t help it.

“Shut up, Ty!” the brothers bark at him in sync, and that just sets Tyler off more.

So Jordie walking in on them is how he finds out his brother and teammate have been sneaking around everyone’s back for a little while – and how Tyler finds out Jamie is serious about him, because Jordie says, “What the fuck are you even doing? Do you know how bad this can get for the team? What if you break up, huh? Or have a fight? What then?”

And Jamie says, “We’re not going to break up! I’m in love with him, okay? I’m in love with Tyler.”

Tyler gasps. “You’re in love with me?” he asks. He breaks into a wide smile when Jamie nods at him, shy but firm. “I love you too,” Tyler says.

They smile at each other stupidly, forgetting all about Jordie until he says, “Oh, my God! Okay, okay. You’re in love with each other. Great! Now will you please put up some fucking clothes? God.”

He’s smiling though, so Tyler figures he’s not that annoyed. Not that he would care if he was. Why would he, when Jamie is in love with him?

That’s the important part.


	24. Sid/Geno - Lottery Ticket, Canon Divergence, Rich!Geno, 5 head canons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhenya comes into his money by pure dumb luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired: "rival corporate business men AU for the 5 headcanons plz"

1\. Zhenya comes into his money by pure dumb luck. He’s working the graveyard shift at the local gas station as a favour for a friend, already dreading his morning skate the next day when the annoying bell above the door tinkles and an old lady steps inside.

She’s a tiny thing, old and wrinkled, and Zhenya has no idea what she is doing at the gas station this late at night. He keeps an idle eye on her as she browses the racks, her movements slow and deliberate as she picks up random objects here and there before putting them back in their place. Finally, she makes it to the register. She stops before Zhenya, tilting her head to one side and looking at him, considering.

Zhenya is about to ask what she wants when she throws an empty bag onto the counter and reaches inside the big coat she’s wearing before drawing out a fucking revolver and aiming at him, her hands sure and steady.

“Empty the cash register, don’t do anything stupid, and you and I will get along just fine.”

Zhenya is so stunned by what’s happening he’s following her instructions before he even knows what he’s doing.

The woman nods, satisfied, when the bag has been filled, and smiles politely at Zhenya. She lowers the gun, though she doesn’t put it away, and reaches for the bag. Before she leaves, she draws out a bill, picks out a scratchcard from the lottery section, and places them both on the counter, pushing them towards Zhenya.

“For your troubles,” she says.

She leaves as quietly as she had arrived, Zhenya staring after her with wide eyes, his pulse racing in fear.

Holy shit, he thinks, and calls the police.

As he waits for the police to arrive, he scans the scratchcard and puts the bill in the register. He figures he might as well. He pockets the card in his jeans and forgets all about it when the police arrives, and then for a few more days until he’s going through the pockets of his jeans before doing some laundry.

He stares at it for a while and then thinks what the hell. The card _is_ payed for. Technically, anyway.

Zhenya is sixteen.

2\. The scratchcard changes a lot of things. For instance, Zhenya’s money means he’s able to invest in his club when Metallurg runs into a bit of financial trouble. He saves them from some bad people with some bad connections and what would have been an all around bad situation, but it means Zhenya is tied to his club in a way none of the other players are.

It means he doesn’t follow through with his plans to sneak away to Pittsburgh.

It takes some time, but eventually, Zhenya lets go of the bitterness of not playing in the NHL. (He knows his time will come. He can feel it in his bones.)

3\. Almost a decade after his investment into Metallurg, circumstances have changed enough that Zhenya feels comfortable cashing out without Metallurg suffering for it. Zhenya is a good man, a good son, a good player, a good countryman. He has shown his loyalty and his commitment; he can afford to be selfish and follow his heart.

His heart takes him to Pittsburgh (and Sidney Crosby, eventually).

4\. The Penguins almost fall all over themselves to welcome Zhenya to their team. They roll out the red carpet and cater to his every whim and desire. They’re courting him, because they don’t know there is no other team Zhenya will go to. He is to be a Penguin if he has to take a pay-cut or not. Management doesn’t know that though, and Zhenya doesn’t feel the need to inform them.

He rather likes being wined and dined, especially as the wining and dining is done, mostly, by Crosby.

It’s obvious he doesn’t like Zhenya very much, that he resents being dangled in front of him as an incentive for Zhenya to join the team. Zhenya doesn’t much care, not when Sidney is so very easily flustered, is so lovely. He’s even fun sometimes, too, when Zhenya allows him to talk about hockey instead of all the reasons why Pittsburgh is such a great sports town. He lets his shoulders down then, relaxing into the conversation, and Zhenya sometimes wonder if management knows just how effective Sidney is, how enamoured he is by him.

(He catches Mario looking at him speculatively once, and thinks he must realise.)

By June, Zhenya has been in Pittsburgh for a couple of months already, and he has seen all he needs to see. Much fanfare is made when he signs at the dotted line that makes him a Penguin. No one is more relieved than Sidney, who seems happy to go back to whatever his summer plans had been before he’d been detained by Zhenya’s arrival in Pittsburgh.

Zhenya is a little insulted by how eager Sidney is to escape his company, but he’s a patient man; he can afford to wait till training camp begins before he starts romancing him.

(Sidney won’t know what hit him.)

5\. Summer turns out to be more eventful than anticipated.

Mario Lemieux wants to sell his shares in the team but is hesitant to sell to just anyone. He wants to ensure that the Pens end up in good hands. Zhenya, who has been invited to stay with the Lemieuxs until he gets his own place, can tell it is taking a toll on him the longer summer drags on.

Eventually, Zhenya offers to buy the shares himself. It’s not as though he doesn’t have the money for it.

The sale is well received by the city and local media. All of Pittsburgh appears to have decided that Zhenya is a hero, a second coming of Lemieux in more than one way, and the purchase endears Zhenya to Yinzers so much he can’t go anywhere without being stopped and regaled by how thankful they are to him, how good of him it was to put his money into the organisation.

He gets text from his teammates too, introductions and felicitations all rolled into one text. Zhenya takes care to thank them and save their numbers to his phone.

One person is notably quiet on the issue. In fact, it seems that the only one who isn’t satisfied by the sale is Sidney, who, when Zhenya next sees him in person, is downright displeased by it.

It takes him three months to figure out why.

And Zhenya has been patient, he has. He’s been romancing the hell out of Sidney, flirting and courting and gifting him with increasingly ridiculous gifts to at least get a reaction out of him _Jesus Christ_ but Zhenya has never worked so hard for a date before.

At least his new teammates are amused by him, until their looks start getting pitying and Flower is the one who breaks and says, “Mon Dieu, Sid! Put the man out of his misery already. Just go on a fucking date with him!”

The locker room falls silent, the guys staring between Flower and Sidney and Zhenya with bated breath when Sidney growls out, “I can’t.” He gives them a warning glare before turning back to lacing his skates, ostensibly done with the conversation.

But Zhenya is not, because that was not a rejection, not a declaration of how much Sidney can’t stand Zhenya like he’d half expected. No, instead it was–

“Why?” Zhenya asks, staring at him intently. “Why you not go on one date with me? Just one,” he pleads. “If you not like, okay, I’m not ask anymore.”

Sidney looks up, meeting Zhenya’s eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, the locker room around them hushed with nervous silence.

Eventually, Sidney blushes and tears his eyes away from Zhenya.

“I can’t, because you are my boss now,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “It wouldn’t be right.”

And that, right there, Zhenya can work with.


	25. Sid/Geno - Role play, NSFW, dub-con, established relationship (Afternoon Delight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the Lottery Ticket verse.

“Sidney.”

Mr. Malkin smiles warmly, walking around his desk to greet Sidney properly, both of his large hands closing intimately around Sid’s. “I’m not expecting to see you, you know? How I’m help?”

“Mr. Malkin,” Sid starts, licking his lips, conscious of the nervous sweat building up on the small of his back and in his palms. “I’ve just come to talk a bit about the trade rumors going around. My team is worried and I’d like to be able to address their concerns.”

Mr. Malkin sighs, releasing Sidney’s hands and wrapping an arm around his back, guiding him further into the room. “Ah, Sidney, you know I’m can’t comment on trade rumors. We have more than just team to answer to, you know?”

“Mr. Malkin, our team is finally healthy and working as hard as they can.” Every team goes through slumps, Sidney knows, he just has to convince their owners of this. In any way that he can. Sid suppresses a shiver when Mr. Malkin runs his hand up and down his back, and then down, down; he’s so close his breath curls around Sid’s ear, the sensitive skin there tingling under the small puffs of air.

“You say team working hard?” Mr. Malkin smirks, his hand dipping low enough to rub firmly across the top of Sid’s ass, once, twice before he withdraws, walking over to the throne-like chair by the desk. It’s huge and pretentious; it dominates the room. “Show me how hard team will work for me.”

Sidney startles. For a second, his mind struggles to catch up to what’s happening. It’s so far-fetched. Something like this only happens in the movies, to women. Not to 200lbs hockey players. But then, as Sidney watches, Mr. Malkin settles in the chair, legs splayed wide as his eyes flicker to Sidney’s mouth, his gaze darkening when Sidney’s tongue automatically traces over his parted lips.

He’s breathing heavily all of a sudden, his chest heaving with it. He walks around the desk, drawing closer to Malkin with every step. He’s so close, Sidney thinks Malkin must be able to hear the pounding of Sidney’s blood in his veins, the wild beat of his heart.

“How—“ Sidney starts uncertainly. “How would I go about showing you?“

Mr. Malkin smiles toothily. He looks pleased by the question. “I’m think you already know,” he says, and there is a challenge in his eyes and in his tone that Sidney can’t back down from.

He’s always been too competitive.

Sidney steps in between Mr. Malkin’s legs, his dick twitching when Mr. Malkin nods approvingly.

Awkwardly, Sidney lowers himself to his knees, hands shaking as he fumbles with Mr. Malkin’s belt and zipper. The proprietary hand Mr. Malkin cards through his hair only serves to ramp up the heat in his gut. “I don't— I’ve never done this before. I’m not gay.” But even as he says it, he can feel his dick pressing against the fly of his pants; he’s more than a little aroused.

Mr. Malkin eyes him, amused. There’s a knowing look in his eyes as he says, “Such pretty lips. Think maybe you have done before. But this better.“ He smirks, the fingers in Sidney’s hair tightening into a grip before tugging him closer to Malkin’s groin.

“Like that I’m your first.”

Sidney blinks up at him. He takes in a deep breath, smelling the unmistakable musk of man. It’s strangely heady.

“Such good. Come on then,” Malkin rumbles encouragingly, hips hitching forward.

Mr. Malkin groans when Sidney gets a hand on him, pulling him out through his zipper. “Um, how do you,” Sid stutters, tongue feeling thick and clumsy inside his watering mouth. “What do you like?”

Mr. Malkin cups the back of his head, pulling his head close enough that the head of his cock rests against Sid’s plush bottom lip. Sidney can taste come.

“You said you show me how good team can be,” Malkin says. “Show me you can be a good boy,” he adds teasingly, almost as an afterthought, and Sidney has to close his eyes, his breath hitching at the sudden jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine.

No one has ever called him a good boy before. Not like this, anyway, but Sidney likes it. Sidney likes it a lot.

“I can be better,” he promises, fingers clumsy as he closes a hand around the base of Malkin’s dick. It’s thick and long.

Oh, God.

Sid chokes on a whine, feeling his cheeks flush as he opens his jaw wide, tentatively leaning forward to take in the head. He’s seen porn, and he’s heard the comments guys make about his mouth. Sidney was born for this. He’s heard it often enough on the ice.

It’s been nothing more than trash talk, though. An easy chirp to rile him up. Sidney has never imagined he’d like doing this kind of thing, but as he pulls back to lick a broad stripe up the underside of Malkin’s cock, he realizes that he does.

"Oh,” Mr. Malkin breathes out, sliding his hand down to cup Sidney’s jaw. “Oh, you like.”

Sidney shivers. He closes his mouth around the dick in his hand, suckling gently in agreement. He feels as if he should be ashamed, that he should be hating this; he definitely shouldn’t be hard and dripping in his pants.

He does like it, though, he can’t deny that, and Malkin does too, moaning out his appreciation of Sidney’s pretty, pretty mouth, red and stretched wide around his cock.

It’s probably far from the best blowjob Malkin has gotten, but Sidney feels he makes up for lack of technical skill in pure enthusiasm.

He sucks greedily, really getting into it as he moves his right hand to cover the front of his jeans, trying to get some friction.

Malkin groans, his hips making a few stuttering pushes against Sidney’s mouth before gently easing Sidney off his cock, his thumb stroking over Sidney’s wet, come-slick mouth.

“Such good,” he says again. “But I’m want more. Think you need to show team’s dedication.”

Sidney swallows. “I thought I was?”

“Yes, this show of good faith, but need more.”

“Like what?” Sidney asks, but he already knows, is already climbing back to his feet, letting Malkin press him back against the desk, hands falling to the back of Sidney’s thighs before he physically lifts him onto the desk in a show of pure strength.

“Oh,” Sidney says.

“Oh,” Mr. Malkin echoes, and then they’re kissing, Malkin’s clever fingers working the button on Sidney’s pants, dragging the zipper down before tugging at the material of Sidney’s jeans, easing them down his hips with a little help from Sidney.

“Let me fuck you,” Malkin mumbles against his mouth. “Really show me how team will work for me, how good you are.”

(Sidney lets him fuck him.)


	26. Sid/Geno - NSFW, smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 700 points celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> book23worm inquired: "Help! Sid and Geno… 700th point shenanigans… GO:D"

“So good for me, Sid,” Geno tells him, tightening his grip on Sidney’s hair. His other hand finds Sidney’s mouth, tracing his fingers over where Sid’s lips are stretched wide around Geno’s cock.

Sid moans, preening under the praise. He relaxes his throat, swallowing Geno deeper before he eases back, letting his tongue swirl around the head of Geno’s dick.

Geno curses. “Good boy. Most good,” he says. He places his knuckles under Sidney’s chin, tilting his face up. Pressing his thumb against Sid’s lower lip, he drags the digit through spit and come, says, “Always so good for me, Sid. Best. Help me tonight, too. Get seven hundred points tonight. Is big deal, and you help. Good boys deserve good thing, yes?” Geno bends at the waist, holding Sidney still as he kisses him deeply. “What you want, Sid, hm? Tell me.”

Sid pants against his mouth. He’s naked and flushed all over, on his knees for Geno, so hard he’s aching with it. He wants to come, but he wants to drag this out too, to hold off until he can’t anymore, until he has to come or he’ll feel like dying from it.

He likes it when it gets intense, and Geno—Geno will make it so good for him. Sidney just has to ask.

“I want you to eat me out. And then I want to you to fuck me. Hard.”

Geno grins at him. “Can do for you,” he says, and helps Sidney back onto the bed, arranging his limbs to his satisfaction. He slaps his hand against Sidney’s ass when he’s satisfied, once, twice, three times.

Sid groans. He trembles under the force of the blows, just hard enough to sting pleasantly.

“You like, hm?” Geno asks him, as if Sid’s cock isn’t jutting proudly against his stomach.

Geno spanks his ass again and again, until Sidney is shaking from it, hands giving out underneath him as he collapses head first to the bed. It makes him arch his back, raising his ass high in the air. Sidney buries his face into his pillow. He must look obscene, he thinks, but behind him, Geno eases up on the blows, leaning forward to press soft kisses against Sidney’s heated skin.

“Not be ashamed,” he tells Sidney, and his hands are gentle when he touches his ass now. “Look so good like this, Sid. Look beautiful. Just for me.”

“Geno, please,” Sidney begs him, and Geno can be a tease, but he is never cruel. He always takes such good care of him.

“Yes,” Geno murmurs. “I’m give you what you want.” He palms Sidney’s ass, spreading his cheeks before diving in, licking a broad stripe over his hole.

“Ngh.” Sidney gasps into his pillow, trying to hide the noises spilling from his mouth. Geno’s tongue feels amazing, so good Sidney could scream. It’s embarrassing how much Sidney likes it, how wanton he is, but he can’t deny how good it feels—even better, because he knows Geno loves seeing him like this.

Geno’s tongue traces his rim, circling his hole before pressing inside, pushing as deep as he can.

Sidney sighs breathlessly at the touch, turning his cheek against his pillow to stifle the sounds of his moans so he can hear the wet licking noises Geno makes.

It feels unbearably good, better when Geno fastens his lips around Sid’s pucker and _sucks_. Sidney can’t keep quiet then.

“Geno!” he keens out. “Ah, Geno. It’s too much, it’s too much.”

He whimpers as he feels Geno hum against his skin, eyes rolling in his head when Geno reaches under him, closing his hand around Sid’s dick. “Feel good, Sid? Ready for more?” Geno asks. He nips at Sid’s rim teasingly, teeth digging into the flesh just this side of painful before soothing over the sting with his tongue. “Think you are,” he says when he’s pulled back.

He lets go of Sidney’s dick, and Sid wants to protest, but then Geno is reaching for the lube they keep in the nightstand, replacing his mouth with his fingers on Sidney’s ass, and Sid is perfectly happy to let Geno finger him open.

He manages to wait until Geno’s has worked three fingers inside of him before he’s had enough. “Come on, Geno. I’m ready.”

Geno hums, pleased, and pulls his fingers out, leaving Sid’s hole open and gaping.

It seems like forever, waiting for Geno to slick up his cock, but then he’s pressing against Sid’s opening, one hand clutching at Sid’s hip as he guides his cock inside.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Sidney chants. He pushes back against Geno’s thrusts, grunting when Geno slaps his ass hard.

“This what you want, Sid? This what you need?”

“Yes!” Sidney gasps out. “So good.” He wants to reach for his cock, can feel it leaking against his stomach, but he’s too loose-limbed to move, can’t do anything but pant against the feel of Geno’s hips slamming against his ass, driving his dick deeper inside him. 

Geno finds his prostate, fucking into him hard, and Sidney gasps as he grinds his dick against the gland.

It’s too much, too intense, too much pleasure; Sidney comes, crying from how good it feels as Geno fucks him trough it.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. “So good for me, so tight. Love you, Sid. Love you most.” He manages a few more thrusts before he stills, spilling inside Sidney. He groans, collapsing over Sid’s back, pressing his face into the back of Sidney’s neck.

They stay like that until the weight gets too much and Sid says, “Geno, have to move. Too heavy.”

Geno grunts, mumbles something that might be a protest into Sidney’s skin, but he’s gentle when he eases out of Sid’s hole, dropping to the bed next to Sid with a loud groan. “Okay?” he asks. He lifts a hand to Sidney’s face, fingers wiping away a stray tear.

“Yeah,” Sidney whispers. “It was just really intense. I liked it, though.” He captures Geno’s hand with his own, smiling when Geno locks their fingers together. “I always like it.”

Geno smiles back at him. “I’m always like too.”


	27. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid billets with the Malkin family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "do the highschool one please"

Zhenya will be the first person to admit he hadn’t been keen on the idea of an American coming to stay with them for half a year. The fuck should they cater to an entitled no-name who wanted to come to Russia for a semester abroad?—personal growth, they called it, broadening a young individual’s cultural experience.

Fuck off! As if it wasn’t some guy just like Zhenya, who wanted to miss class and mess around, only he was willing to cross the Atlantic to do it.

“Why must you be so negative?” his mother asks him. “It’s not like it will cost us to house him. We’re getting a stipend, you know.”

Zhenya scoffs. “It’s not about the money.” It’s not either. Zhenya makes enough from hockey and sponsors that money hasn’t been an issue for them for a while now. No, this is about Zhenya, and how busy he is, and how he doesn’t wan’t some privileged American trailing after him for six months.

“Canadian, Zhenya! Sidney is Canadian! How many times must I tell you?”

Natalia shakes her head at him, and on the other side of her, Denis smirks.

“Come on, little brother, it’s not like he can be worse than you,” he says, grinning when Zhenya scowls at him, reaching over to punch his arm.

“Fuck you,” Zhenya hisses, low enough for their mother not to hear.

Denis’ grin widens.

“Oh, quit it, both of you. Here he comes.”

The doors to the terminal slides open, passengers carrying their luggage spilling out as Natalia holds up a white sign with black lettering. Sidney, it says.

Zhenya shifts on his feet impatiently, eyes roving over the crowd. He’s already annoyed that his mother dragged him along to the airport. He doesn’t want to spend all day waiting around for this guy; he has things to do, places to be.

For what seems like the thousandth time, he curses the day his mother decided becoming a billet family was a good idea— _Just think, Zhenya! It will give you a chance to practice your English_.

He is too busy grumbling uncharitable things under his breath to notice the guy slowly making his way over to them.

He clears his throat hesitantly. “Uhm, Mrs. Malkin?” he says. “Privet. I’m Sidney Crosby. Hi.” He raises a hand, waving at them awkwardly.

Zhenya gapes.

Somehow, in the weeks leading up to Sidney’s arrival, Zhenya never once picked up on his surname.

Sidney Crosby. Their houseguest is Sidney fucking Crosby.

God, Sanja is going to be jealous as all hell when he finds out. Zhenya takes back every awful thought he’s had about Sidney so far.

“Mama,” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me that Sidney is actually Sidney _Crosby_? That is not information you keep to yourself!”

Natalia rolls her eyes at him, blithely ignoring her son as she shoves the sign into Denis’ hands before throwing her arms around Sidney, hugging him tight. “Welcome to Russia, Sidney,” she tells him, and after a quick glare at Denis, waits as he dutifully translates.

“Oh, thank you. I’m glad to be here,” Sidney says. Zhenya has no idea what he’s saying, but he sounds earnest. At least Denis is nodding in understanding.

“Sidney Crosby,” he murmurs in disbelief, more to himself than anything, but it makes Sidney look at him.

He lights up. “Evgeni Malkin!” He launches into a burst of English Zhenya has no hope of following, looking excited all the while.

Zhenya casts a helpless glance at his brother, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes when Denis wiggles his brows at him.

“He’s a fan of yours,” Denis translates. “Says your hockey is simply _amazing_. He can’t wait to see you play in the NHL.”

Zhenya blushes, feeling uncharacteristically shy under the praise. It’s only January, and Zhenya won’t turn eighteen until July, but Sidney sounds as if him being drafted is a given.

Which it is. He’ll likely end up a first-round pick as well, but it feels different coming from Sidney. More significant somehow.

His mother looks at him knowingly, because Zhenya has yet to tear his eyes away from Sidney’s face. “Why don’t you help him with his luggage, Zhenya?” she suggests, and doesn’t even bother to hide her smirk when Zhenya scrambles to obey, almost bowling Sidney over in the process.

“I’m help,” he tells him in broken, stuttering English. Zhenya normally hates speaking English, hates how stupid it makes him sound, but Sidney smiles so wide at his offer that Zhenya can’t quite bring himself to care this time.

“Thank you,” he says brightly, and those words, Zhenya knows.

Natalia loops her arm around Sidney’s, guiding him out of the airport as she chatters about all the food she plans on feeding him. Sidney follows easily, if not looking a little confused. He casts a glance over his shoulder, smiling at Zhenya before Natalia regains his attention.

Zhenya stares after them, feeling a little stunned. He wasn’t at all prepared for this.

He grunts when Denis slaps him hard on the back. “Oh, little brother, you never stood a chance did you?” he asks merrily, leaving Zhenya behind to deal with the bags while he joins their mother and new houseguest.

He shoulders the bags, and as he starts trailing after them, his eyes settle on Sidney’s jean-clad ass.

Oh, hell. Zhenya is well and truly fucked. 


	28. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then Sidney smiles when he sees them, his pretty eyes lighting up as he says, “Zhenya? Help, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "what happens next in the high school AU?? tell me more about the jeans-clad ass pLS"

Are you possibly talking about the high school AU where Sid is taking a semester in Russia and billeting with the Malkin family?

Are you possibly talking about arrogant jock Geno, gobsmacked by the sudden appearance of Sidney Crosby–Sidney Crosby who is not only amazing at hockey, but Sidney Crosby who is stunningly beautiful, whose ass Zhenya is pretty sure should be the eight wonder of the world–

And yeah, not for the first time since Sidney’s arrival a couple of weeks ago, it occurs to Zhenya how well and truly fucked he is.

“You know, little brother,” Denis says, mercifully keeping his voice low enough not to catch their new housemate’s attention; Sidney is bent over at the waist, staring into the oven where a lamb is slowly roasting with narrowed, mistrustful eyes.

No one is quite sure how it happened, but Natalia and Sidney had taken to each other like white on rice (Zhenya still can’t believe that’s an actual expression) and Natalia had decided that Sidney was to be her apprentice, spending hours with him in the kitchen sometimes, revealing to him culinary secrets Denis and Zhenya has long since been banned from.

“If you stare any harder, you might actually succeed in branding him with your mark. Maybe then all the girls wouldn’t simper at him so much.”

Zhenya shoves him hard. “Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, thankful that Sidney’s grasp of Russian is still poor enough that he wouldn’t have understood even if he’d overheard.

In front of them, Sidney huffs in frustration. He straightens, turning to look at where Denis and Zhenya are leaning against the door opening of the kitchen, close, but not actually crossing the threshold into their mother’s domain. They both know better.

But then Sidney smiles when he sees them, his pretty eyes lighting up as he says, “Zhenya? Help, please?”

His accent is atrocious and his pronunciation is shit; Zhenya could listen to him for hours.

His mother has banned him from the kitchen, lest he and Denis start a fire, _again_ , but–

Sidney is calling for him, and Zhenya?

Zhenya goes to him, helpless to do anything but.


	29. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid isn’t quite sure what possesses him to move to Russia of all places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, a request - more of the teenaged!Sid on exchange in Russia fic? Please?

_(this takes place a year earlier than previously assumed.)_

Sid isn’t quite sure what possesses him to move to Russia of all places.

It’s just for a semester, but still.

All he knows is that he’d needs to get away for a while, that the pressure of being _Sidney Crosby_ is getting to him. He’s only fifteen, he’s years away from the real pros, from the NHL, but everything he does is scrutinised and analysed and talked about and Sid just needs some space so he can _breathe_. He needs to breathe, or he’ll suffocate; he _has_ to get away.

Running away to Russia might be a little excessive, even by Sid’s standards – which have always been two steps off normal – but it _feels_ right, and Sid, for whatever else he is, is a creature of instinct as much as habit.

When his guidance counsellor visits his class at the beginning of the year, talking about various exchange programs – US, Germany, UK, _Russia –_ Sidney jumps at the chance. He walks straight from class to Ms. Sloan’s office.

“Russia?” she says, surprised, when Sidney brings it up. She peers at him from behind her spectacles.

Sidney can’t read her at all.

“Yeah,” he says. “Metallurg has a great hockey program, and besides, it’d be good to get away for a while.” He sets his jaw stubbornly, preparing for a fight, but Ms. Sloan merely arches her brows.

“I agree. Furthermore, a semester abroad will look great on your application.”

“My application?”

“Your college application,” she explains. Sidney scoffs at that and she frowns at him. “Sidney–”

“I’m not going to college. I’m going pro once I clear the draft,” he says firmly, because that has always been the plan and it won’t change now. Not ever. “Look, Ms. Sloan, I don’t care about the credits, okay, my grades are fine, I just want to spend one semester in Russia. That’s all.”

Sidney tries not to fidget, clenching his hands on his lap to keep still while Ms. Sloan observes him carefully.

Finally, she sighs. “All right. I’ll make the arrangements,” she says, all professional business now. “I will print out some documents for you to take home, and then call you parents and talk to them personally. Once all the legal documents are signed, I’ll give you an introduction packet on Russia and your billet family, okay?”

Sidney blinks at her. He feels a little stunned in the face of her one-eighty and sudden efficiency. “I- yes. Yes, okay, sounds good.”

Things move quickly from there. His mom isn’t too keen on him moving so far away, even if it is just six months, but his dad takes one look at the anxious expression on Sidney’s face and gently points out that he’s been away from them before.

“Six months in _Russia_ is in a whole different sphere than some out of town tournament, Troy!”

Sidney worries his lip between his teeth, looking between his parents as they argue back and forth. Finally, Troy looks at him and asks, “You need this? This will be good for you? You’re sure?”

There are few things Sidney has been more sure of in his life, and it must show on his face because his dad says, “Okay then,” and that is that, apparently.

Three months later, Sid is in an airport in Magnitogorsk, knowing all of two sentences in Russian. As he walks through customs, he runs through all the reasons why this is a mistake, why he should never have gotten on that plane in the first place and just stayed in Canada where everyone speaks English and where–.

He stops up suddenly, unable to hold back the grin that breaks out on his face.

There’s a small woman in the waiting area, holding up a sign that says _Sidney_ in clear, english letters. The place is crowded, and Sid doesn’t think he would have seen her at all if it wasn’t for the tall boy standing behind her, looking around the crowd with a fierce scowl on his face.

Evgeni Malkin.

Sidney recognises him from game tapes, knows he’ll be highly sought after in next year’s draft.

Suddenly, he forgets why he was so worried in the first place, too busy thinking of _hockey_ and _playing_ and _Evgeni Malkin_.

He walks up to them, feeling a mix of giddy and nervous when he says, “Mrs. Malkin? Privet. I’m Sidney Crosby.” He glances at Evgeni, smiling awkwardly at the wide eyes staring back at him. He really is quite tall.

“Hi.”


	30. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhenya will be the first person to admit he’s whipped. 100%, he’s whipped, and, tragically—as his brother loves to point out—with none of the benefits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hazel! Do you think we could have a sophia crosby verse or a Geno billets Sid verse to help us through Geno's 6-8 week absence?

Zhenya will be the first person to admit he’s whipped. 100%, he’s whipped, and, tragically—as his brother loves to point out—with none of the benefits.

Into nearly five months of billeting Sidney Crosby, though, there is no denying it.

All Sidney has to do is blink his large green eyes at Zhenya, flash that wide, crooked grin of his, and Zhenya is putty in his hands.

Everyone knows this.

Everyone except Sidney.

“It’s ‘cause you’ve got no game,” Denis says sagely, and Zhenya glares, barking at him to shut up. Denis only laughs and continues gobbling down his breakfast pancakes as Zhenya knocks his head against the table and mumbles out a mournful, “Why me?”

“Why you what?” Sidney asks brightly, walking into the kitchen with the small bottle of maple syrup he’s been hoarding jealously ever since he arrived in Russia. Breakfast pancakes is a concept introduced to them by Sidney, who declared Canadian maple syrup an absolute must with such a meal. He’d generously let them have a taste the first time he made pancakes for them.

Denis eyes the bottle for a moment, but knows better than to try anything. They’ve both learnt not to mess with Sidney’s food stash unauthorised.

“Don’t do that, Geno, you’ll hurt your head,” Sidney says. He sits down next to Zhenya, putting his hand on Zhenya’s head to keep him from banging his forehead against the table again. “Then what use will you be on the ice?”

Zhenya snorts and turns his head to face Denis so Sidney can’t see the look on his face when Sidney’s fingers starts treading through his hair.

Denis rolls his eyes at them both. _Geno_ , he mouths at Zhenya.

Sidney’s Russian has improved dramatically from the garbled mess it was in the beginning, but he’d settled on _Geno_ early, not quite able to work out the pronunciation for _Zhenya_.

Denis thinks it a travesty, but Zhenya kind of likes it.

It feels special. Something Sidney shares with Zhenya, only.

“Better than you,” Zhenya answers back, which is a lie only Sidney believes. He pushes his head off the table, trying not to let it show how much he immediately misses Sidney’s touch. “You ready to go? If we leave soon, we can catch the ten o’clock bus. You’ll have all day at the museum then.”

Denis does him the biggest favour of his life and refrains from making a loud whipping noise.

Bless him. Zhenya knows he wants to. He would have done the same if Denis were the one to sacrifice his Saturday to spend the day at a museum just to please his crush.

“Oh.” Sidney clears his throat. “Actually, you don’t have to take me. I know that’s not really your thing. Sasha said he’d take me instead. He’s picking me up in an hour.”

Zhenya stares at him. Sasha, who is on their hockey team and is _two_ years older than Sidney, held back a grade because of an unfortunate injury as a kid. Sasha, who has a license and his own car already. Sasha, who sure as hell doesn’t give a fuck about military history but who is apparently willing to take Sidney to the Museum of Military Equipment anyway.

What the actual fuck?

“When was this decided?” Zhenya demands.

Sidney shrugs. “Since late last night. I heard you tell Denis you didn’t really want to go”— _fuck_!—“so I texted Sasha to see if he wanted to go instead.” Sidney flushes, looking away from them as he adds, “He’s been asking me out.” 

Zhenya desperately wants to blame Denis, but he’s the idiot who’d complained about having to spend a day at a museum when they could be doing other stuff instead. Fuck if he’s going to let _Sasha_ take his place though.

“I’m going. I said I’d take you, so I am. I don’t break my word.”

“It’s not really breaking your word if I say it’s okay for you not to go, though.”

“ _I’m going_ ,” Zhenya repeats firmly, just daring Sidney to contradict him.

Sidney tilts his head to the side, his eyes huge as he considers Zhenya. “Okay,” he says finally, and when he looks away, there’s a pleased smile on his face.

“Good,” Zhenya says, nodding. He skilfully ignores Denis’ incredulous shake of his head and his quiet, whispered, “So whipped.” 

Whish is true, but whatever. At least Zhenya gets to spend the day with his crush.

Clearly he’s the winner here.


	31. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yes, Sidney knows about Geno’s crush on him.
> 
> It’s Geno who has absolutely no clue that Sidney would like to climb him like a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lifecolouredpurple asked: "Hey Hazel, any possibility for a geno billets sid or a sophia crosby fic this weekend?"

Sidney is not nearly as clueless as Geno believes he is. First of all, he’d have to be blind, deaf and out of this world oblivious to have missed the way Geno looks at him—and Sidney isn’t, not by a long shot. He is pretty damn observant, actually. It comes with the media training and the having been put in front of a camera since before he reached puberty.

Second, Geno isn’t particularly subtle. Or at all.

Sidney has known pretty much since day one that Geno is stupidly gone on him; the way Geno kept glancing at his mouth when he spoke was clue one. The ‘accidental’ groping of his ass (twice) was clue number two.

So yes, Sidney knows about Geno’s crush on him.

It’s Geno who has absolutely no clue that Sidney would like to climb him like a tree.

Sidney should probably feel guilty about the way he keeps manipulating Geno. And he does, a little. It’s just that Geno is moving so damn slow and Sidney is running out of time. For some reason, Geno has decided that Sidney is a virgin (which he is) too pure to be touched (which he’s definitely not) and it’s put some serious kinks in Sidney’s plan to get into Geno’s pants.

It’s not so much that it is Sidney resenting his virginity as it is he would just really like to ride Geno’s cock; he’s seen that thing. It’s huge.

Sidney suspects he’s a little bit of a size queen. Or he would be if Geno just got with the program. And maybe fifteen going on sixteen is young, but Sidney knows what he wants.

Also there might be feelings involved.

Sidney doesn’t like to think about that. It’s easier to think about how much he wants to get with Geno instead of how much he wants to _get with_ Geno—how fast his heart beats every time Geno smiles at him, or how Sidney can feel himself light up any time Geno walks into the room, or how he doesn’t really want to leave Russia if it means he gets to stay with Geno.

Or how when he gets back home, they won’t get to see each other for six months and only if they’re both selected for the World Junior Championship in December. Or how the following summer Geno is going to be drafted first or second, and whichever team that ends up drafting him won’t be the one to draft Sidney, because Sidney is going first the year after, everyone knows that, and the chances of them ending up on the same team are so slim, so miniscule it makes Sidney breathe a little faster, his chest tightening alarmingly until he feels as if he’s choking on it, he’s—

“Hey, you all right?” 

Sidney looks down at where Geno’s hand has encircled his wrist. His thumb is stroking over Sidney’s pulse point; it’s thumping so fast he’s sure Geno must be able to feel it.

“I’m fine,” Sidney starts to say, and stops. Because as much as he likes to tease Geno and sometimes manipulate him—prancing around in shorts he knows are too tight and stretch obscenely over his ass, making his eyes a little bigger because he knows Geno thinks they’re pretty and rarely tells him no then, involving Sasha—he’s never actually lied to him. He didn’t lie about Sasha; the guy really had asked him out and really does have a crush on Sidney, but he’d known that Geno doesn’t like him and he’d known how he’d react when Sidney told him Sasha could take him to the museum instead.

It’d been a shitty move on Sidney’s part. Shitty for Geno _and_ Sasha—who is a good guy despite Geno’s misgivings about him.

Sidney is sometimes selfish. He knows this about himself. But he’s never cruel, or he doesn’t mean to be, doesn’t want to be, and he’s no liar.

“I’m going to miss this place,” he says. The words are heavily accented, but the syntax is perfect. “I’m going to miss you.”

Geno furrows his brows at him. “What—”

“I’m leaving soon, Geno. I only have a month left before I have to go home.” Sidney watches as Geno sets his jaw. They’ve both carefully avoided talking about it, but Sidney knows Geno is as anxious about it as he is. They’ve been a little spoilt these past months together, he thinks. It’s been a long time since Sidney has been so relaxed, so at ease—it’s the longest time he’s gone without a camera in his face in nearly two years. All because of Geno, and because he came here.

He doesn’t want to give that up, even as he knows he has to. He knows he has to go home.

“I don’t want to fight,” he says when Geno opens his mouth. They’re standing at the bus stop outside of the museum, waiting for the four o’clock bus that will take them home. Sidney’s had an awesome day, Geno patiently trailing after him as he’d explored all the military equipment to his heart’s desire.

He’d done that for him, to make Sidney happy. That means more to him than Sidney knows how to put into words.

There’s only them there. No one sees when Sidney steps into Geno’s space, so close he has to tilt his head back to hold Geno’s gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and just barely manages to hold back his smile at the look of shock that spreads over Geno’s face. He gently pulls his wrist free from Geno, and lifts his hands to cup his face, giving Geno all the time in the world to stop him as he pushes up onto his toes and presses his lips against Geno’s, so soft and so chaste.

Sidney may be a virgin, but this is not his first kiss; he knows exactly what to do when Geno gasps, his mouth opening just enough for Sidney to gently prod his tongue inside.

Geno makes a high desperate noise as Sidney’s tongue touches his, and he grabs at the back of Sidney’s jacket, pressing impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss, and _oh._

He does something with his tongue Sidney has never felt before. It’s too much and not enough and soon he has to pull back to suck in some much needed air.

They’re both panting, Geno staring at Sidney with wide, startled eyes.

Sidney grins at him. “Do you want to kiss some more?”

“God yes,” Geno says, and draws Sidney back into his arms.


	32. Sid/Geno - Sid in Russia, pre-penguins (When We Were Young Part 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So young,” his mother tuts worriedly when he cries to her about it, and, “so dramatic,” his dad adds with a sigh, but it’s Vladimir who is sniffling and failing to hold back his tears when they see Sidney off at the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I'll give you my firstborn child in exchange for more of the sid billeting with the malkins fic PLEASE IM DESPERATE (I mean 100k would be nice but I'd settle for a ficlet....)"

The three and a half weeks leading up to Sidney’s departure is probably the best time of Zhenya’s life. Top three, for sure.

“For sure,” Denis mocks in his truly abysmal accent, before shaking his head and mumbling under his breath about his idiot brother.

Whatever. Sid says it all the time and Zhenya has maybe picked up on it a little. Imitation is a form of empathy. Zhenya is pretty sure he’s read that somewhere.

“You read?” Sidney chirps, and three and a half weeks earlier Zhenya would have wrestled him into submission. Now he gets to wrestle him into submission _and_ kiss him to shut him up.

It’s objectively amazing.

Until it’s not. Until it’s a day before Sidney has to return to Canada and Zhenya feels as if parts of him is going with him; half of his soul and three quarters of his heart, and only a shell of Zhenya will remain in Russia because the rest of him will go with Sid.

“So young,” his mother tuts worriedly when he cries to her about it, and, “so dramatic,” his dad adds with a sigh, but it’s Vladimir who is sniffling and failing to hold back his tears when they see Sidney off at the airport.

“You write to us, you hear,” he tells Sidney, drawing him into an embrace that Zhenya’s mom has to coax him out of. “And call when you can. We’ll always pick up the phone.”

Zhenya waits impatiently while his family gives their goodbyes, and a few of Sidney’s friends who’d tagged along as well—a couple of teammates, _Sasha_ , and Paulina, a girl he’d met in debate class. Zhenya hadn’t even known they were friends, actually thought they didn’t like each other very much, but apparently there is some grudging respect between them.

“You’d have been a decent politician,” Paulina says, punching Sid’s arm. She glances at Zhenya, quick, before pulling a startled Sidney into a hug. “Don’t let hockey be your whole life, ok? You’re so much more,” she says softly, and then she’s gone. She doesn’t even say goodbye.

Zhenya and Sid stare after her, finally alone now. “I thought she hated me,” Sid admits. He flashes a crooked grin at Zhenya. “You giving me a proper goodbye or are you just going to stand there?”

His accent is still shit, but Zhenya is going to miss it so, so much.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he says when Sidney worms his arms around his middle. He looks down into hazel-green eyes and lifts a hand to brush away a fringe of hair that is curled over Sidney’s forehead. It’s getting long. 

Zhenya has to take a moment to just stare at him. He thinks if maybe he stares just long and hard enough, he can etch the memory of Sid’s features into his brain and never forget.

He’ll aways remember him like this, in Zhenya’s arms, smile stretched wide and eyes crinkling at the corners.

Fuck. Zhenya is so in love with him he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. And now he’s leaving.

He has no words in the entirety of his vocabulary to adequately describe that hurt.

“You’re such a sap,” Sidney whispers, and Zhenya realises he’d said that aloud.

“It’s true, though,” he insists. “Love you.” It’s a stupid thing to say, maybe, will only hurt them more in the end, but it’s true and he can’t not. Not when Sidney is leaving and neither of them know when they’ll get to see each other again. Not when this could be the end.

“I love you too,” Sidney says. He leans up for a kiss and to brush his nose against Zhenya’s.

Zhenya has to squeeze his eyes shut not to burst into sobs right there and then. He’s been good at keeping his tears to himself (and his mom) but it’s hitting him hard now.

He has no idea when or if he’s ever going to have another chance to be this intimate with Sid.

To be this close.

“You are,” Sidney says urgently. “You are, Geno. We are going to see each other again, I know we are.” And Zhenya must be talking aloud again, because Sid is pressing frantic kisses all over his face, murmuring promises in between each press of his lips against Zhenya’s skin and he doesn’t ever want for this moment to end. Doesn’t want to let Sidney go.

“Boys,” Natalia says gently. When Zhenya opens his eyes to glance her way, there’s a sad look on her face, her own eyes brimming with tears. “It’s time. Sidney has to go now.”

Sidney presses his face against Zhenya’s neck and clings to him, and Zhenya is loathe to let him go, but he’s going to miss his flight if he doesn’t and Zhenya might never let him leave if he does.

“I will see you in December,” Sidney says fiercely when they finally break apart. “And if not, then we will meet in the NHL and we’ll—” He looks at Zhenya, all fierce eyes and hard determination, the kind of look he gets when they’re down in the third and Sidney wills them into overtime and then walks away with the game winner himself. It’s the look he gets when he won’t be denied.

“We’ll make it work, somehow,” Sid promises.

He can’t promise that, though. Zhenya knows he can’t. They simply don’t know—but they’re so young, both turning sixteen and seventeen this summer, and words are all they have with an ocean between them and two separate timezones that will have Zhenya waking up while Sidney is going to bed.

Zhenya nods. “See you in December,” he says, and knows he is making team Russia’s roster even if it’s the last thing he does. He won’t let anything stand in his way. Not for this.

“December,” Sidney echoes, and then he’s gone, a sad goodbye and the memory of his mouth on Zhenya’s all he leaves in his wake.


	33. Sid/Geno - Misunderstandings, light angst, Sid in Russia (Home: Sid's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid asks them to buy out his contract.

Imo Sid feels like he loves Geno so much it’s as though his world has been tilted on its axis, but that’s just me. It’s cool though, because Geno loves him back with the same all-consuming, can’t breathe, can’t sleep kinda love.

Except, neither of them realise, of course. There’s pining. So much pining.

They think it’s unrequited love on both parts, and they compensate by being so painfully platonic around each other it hurts.

But better that, better suffering through that ache than not seeing each other at all. Better to be friends than nothing at all. (They’re idiots.)

(This is the verse where Sid is the one who can’t take it anymore, who asks for a trade. Sid, who was to retire a Penguin. No more.)

The hockey world is shocked. Sidney Crosby is so synonymous with the Penguins; for him not to be one…

Toronto makes an offer, because of course, and other teams too, but. Sid can’t. There is too much media, too much fame. Too much everything.

He needs somewhere quiet. A place he can heal in peace, where he won’t have to see the Pens often—painful reminders of everything he can’t have.

(He needs a place where he won’t have to think about Geno, to watch him find a girlfriend and be happy and in love and get married.)

In the end, not even the West is far away enough. When it comes down to it, he can’t even bear the thought of playing against the Pens.

It’s wrong, it’s too much. If he’s not gonna be a Penguin he refuses to be anything else (in the NHL).

He asks to have his contract bought out.

The Penguins doesn’t want to, of course, but they honour his request. They can’t not. It costs them, but Sid has done so much for the team and the organization, and he’s so very, very unhappy.

They’ll give him this, as a thank you for everything he’s done for the team, the city, and the fans.

It’s the middle of the season, and there is so much more hockey to be played, but Sid–isn’t.

He’s a free agent, essentially, and is not sure how to deal with that.

All his life, all he’s known is hockey. He’s not sure who he is without it.

(He’s not sure he wants to find out.)

He spends hours, _days_ , thinking about what he’s going to do next. He’s already back in Cole Harbour, hiding from the rest of the world, but he’s bored.

He wants—he’s not sure what he wants, actually. Everyone’s got an opinion, but it’s all just noise.

He struggles to find stuff to do to pass the days, but then he gets a call, and Sid knows. The KHL. He hadn’t even thought of it before, but it feels right.

It’s Dynamo that calls first, that makes an offer, generously so, but if he’s going to the KHL there is only one place he wants to be.

(It’s a little twisted, a little wrong. And maybe it’s a way of self harm, but it’s a little piece of Geno, and he needs that.)

He signs with Metallurg.

Sid throws himself into it, into the hockey and the reality of being in a new place where doesn’t speak the language, where he doesn’t know his way around.

(Where he doesn’t have to speak to the media so much. He’s not even captain.)

Instead, he just plays.

It’s a little manic; there’s a desperation to his play, as if someone is holding a gun against his head and screaming, “SKATE!”

So that’s what he does. He blocks out everything else, all the noise and all the distraction. He blocks out a lot of things. He does such a good job of it he forgets, if only for a little while.

(It can’t last. It was never going to last.)

The Pens are knocked out of the Playoffs in the second round, but Sid is only barely aware, only just catches the news.

He’s too busy with Metallurg’s own run. He’s forgotten what happens when the Pens no longer play.

He’s forgotten that Geno comes home then.

Seeing him again after all this time, after days, weeks, _months_ since the last time is a shock to his system.

“Geno!” Sid’s breath hitches when he lays eyes on him. “What are you doing here?” In the locker room. In Russia. (With Sid.)

He’s been looking down, lacing his skates, but the room is empty, he notices now. None of his teammates in sight.

There’s only Sid, and Geno, staring at Sid as if he’s a perfect stranger. As if they’ve never even met before.

Sidney gets to his feet slowly.

There’s a silence between them, heavy and fraught with all the things they never said.

(With all the things they should have said, long ago.)

“I’m—“ Geno clears his throat. “This is home,” he says. His face is very carefully blank.

“Yes,” Sid agrees slowly. It’s his home, and Sid’s now too. He wasn’t expecting it to be, but it is. Truly.

Home is where he feels safe, where he feels happy, and—Sid is happy here.

He blinks. He’s not sure he’s realised before now.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again. “In the locker room, I mean. Not—not Magnitogorsk.”

Geno looks at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark, hooded. Sidney can’t read him at all.

“You left,” Geno says. “So I’m go to where you are. This is where.” There’s something in his tone, something pointed, as if it means something, as if _Geno_ thinks it means something, that this is where Sid is.

(Home.)

“I—” Sid starts, but Geno is stepping closer, slow, eyes on Sid as if to keep him in place by the force of his stare alone.

“You leave Pittsburgh,” Geno cuts him off. “And you come here. Can go anywhere, but you come here.”

Sid nods wordlessly, chest heaving when Geno steps closer still, so close Sid has to crane his neck back to look at him.

Their eyes meet.

“Geno,” Sid says, and he’s asking for something, anything.

He’s not sure what, but Geno does.

Geno crowds him back against his stall, taller even with Sid in his skates. He kisses him.

It’s soft, tender. Gentle, as if Geno is scared Sid will run if he puts too much pressure in it. There are no fireworks, no sparks of blinding white that he’s heard others talk about sometimes. Instead, it’s a lot like coming home.

It’s eating his favourite meal, or sleeping in his bed. It’s skating on a fresh sheet of ice.

It’s all the best things in his life, and it’s Geno, there, with him, in what is now the place they both belong.

It’s love.

It’s what Sid feels for Geno and Geno feels for him. He didn’t know before but he does now. They break apart, panting against each other’s mouths. Geno lifts his hands to cup Sid’s face. He strokes his thumb across his cheek, just under his left eye.

Sid looks at him, smiles so bright he lights up with it, and very quietly, he says,

“Welcome home.”

Sid feels like he loves Geno so much it’s as though his world has been tilted on its axis, but that’s just me. It’s cool though, because Geno loves him back with the same all-consuming, can’t breathe, can’t sleep kinda love.

Except, neither of them realise, of course. There’s pining. So much pining.

They think it’s unrequited love on both parts, and they compensate by being so painfully platonic around each other it hurts.

But better that, better suffering through that ache than not seeing each other at all. Better to be friends than nothing at all. (They’re idiots.)

(This is the verse where Sid is the one who can’t take it anymore, who asks for a trade. Sid, who was to retire a Penguin. No more.)

The hockey world is shocked. Sidney Crosby is so synonymous with the Penguins; for him not to be one…

Toronto makes an offer, because of course, and other teams too, but. Sid can’t. There is too much media, too much fame. Too much everything.

He needs somewhere quiet. A place he can heal in peace, where he won’t have to see the Pens often—painful reminders of everything he can’t have.

(He needs a place where he won’t have to think about Geno, to watch him find a girlfriend and be happy and in love and get married.)

In the end, not even the West is far away enough. When it comes down to it, he can’t even bear the thought of playing against the Pens.

It’s wrong, it’s too much. If he’s not gonna be a Penguin he refuses to be anything else (in the NHL).

He asks to have his contract bought out.

The Penguins doesn’t want to, of course, but they honour his request. They can’t not. It costs them, but Sid has done so much for the team and the organization, and he’s so very, very unhappy.

They’ll give him this, as a thank you for everything he’s done for the team, the city, and the fans.

It’s the middle of the season, and there is so much more hockey to be played, but Sid–isn’t.

He’s a free agent, essentially, and is not sure how to deal with that.

All his life, all he’s known is hockey. He’s not sure who he is without it.

(He’s not sure he wants to find out.)

He spends hours, _days_ , thinking about what he’s going to do next. He’s already back in Cole Harbour, hiding from the rest of the world, but he’s bored.

He wants—he’s not sure what he wants, actually. Everyone’s got an opinion, but it’s all just noise.

He struggles to find stuff to do to pass the days, but then he gets a call, and Sid knows. The KHL. He hadn’t even thought of it before, but it feels right.

It’s Dynamo that calls first, that makes an offer, generously so, but if he’s going to the KHL there is only one place he wants to be.

(It’s a little twisted, a little wrong. And maybe it’s a way of self harm, but it’s a little piece of Geno, and he needs that.)

He signs with Metallurg.

Sid throws himself into it, into the hockey and the reality of being in a new place where doesn’t speak the language, where he doesn’t know his way around.

(Where he doesn’t have to speak to the media so much. He’s not even captain.)

Instead, he just plays.

It’s a little manic; there’s a desperation to his play, as if someone is holding a gun against his head and screaming, “SKATE!”

So that’s what he does. He blocks out everything else, all the noise and all the distraction. He blocks out a lot of things. He does such a good job of it he forgets, if only for a little while.

(It can’t last. It was never going to last.)

The Pens are knocked out of the Playoffs in the second round, but Sid is only barely aware, only just catches the news.

He’s too busy with Metallurg’s own run. He’s forgotten what happens when the Pens no longer play.

He’s forgotten that Geno comes home then.

Seeing him again after all this time, after days, weeks, _months_ since the last time is a shock to his system.

“Geno!” Sid’s breath hitches when he lays eyes on him. “What are you doing here?” In the locker room. In Russia. (With Sid.)

He’s been looking down, lacing his skates, but the room is empty, he notices now. None of his teammates in sight.

There’s only Sid, and Geno, staring at Sid as if he’s a perfect stranger. As if they’ve never even met before.

Sidney gets to his feet slowly.

There’s a silence between them, heavy and fraught with all the things they never said.

(With all the things they should have said, long ago.)

“I’m—“ Geno clears his throat. “This is home,” he says. His face is very carefully blank.

“Yes,” Sid agrees slowly. It’s his home, and Sid’s now too. He wasn’t expecting it to be, but it is. Truly.

Home is where he feels safe, where he feels happy, and—Sid is happy here.

He blinks. He’s not sure he’s realised before now.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again. “In the locker room, I mean. Not—not Magnitogorsk.”

Geno looks at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark, hooded. Sidney can’t read him at all.

“You left,” Geno says. “So I’m go to where you are. This is where.” There’s something in his tone, something pointed, as if it means something, as if _Geno_ thinks it means something, that this is where Sid is.

(Home.)

“I—” Sid starts, but Geno is stepping closer, slow, eyes on Sid as if to keep him in place by the force of his stare alone.

“You leave Pittsburgh,” Geno cuts him off. “And you come here. Can go anywhere, but you come here.”

Sid nods wordlessly, chest heaving when Geno steps closer still, so close Sid has to crane his neck back to look at him.

Their eyes meet.

“Geno,” Sid says, and he’s asking for something, anything.

He’s not sure what, but Geno does.

Geno crowds him back against his stall, taller even with Sid in his skates. He kisses him.

It’s soft, tender. Gentle, as if Geno is scared Sid will run if he puts too much pressure in it. There are no fireworks, no sparks of blinding white that he’s heard others talk about sometimes. Instead, it’s a lot like coming home.

It’s eating his favourite meal, or sleeping in his bed. It’s skating on a fresh sheet of ice.

It’s all the best things in his life, and it’s Geno, there, with him, in what is now the place they both belong.

It’s love.

It’s what Sid feels for Geno and Geno feels for him. He didn’t know before but he does now. They break apart, panting against each other’s mouths. Geno lifts his hands to cup Sid’s face. He strokes his thumb across his cheek, just under his left eye.

Sid looks at him, smiles so bright he lights up with it, and very quietly, he says,

“Welcome home.”


	34. Sid/Geno - Misunderstandings, light angst, Sid in Russia (Home: Geno's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "You envoked so many feelings with "Home!" If Sid delt with his feelings by running from them, how did Geno deal with his? Goals? PIMs? Did anyone take the "C" after Sid left? You always tell such wonderful stories!"

Thank you! They offered the ‘C’ to Geno, but he just couldn’t. The Penguins are his, both of theirs, but it’s Sid’s in a way it cannot be anyone else’s. Not this group anyway.

Playing without Sid is…playing without Sid. It’s going on the ice last with no one to fist bump and grudgingly complain about Geno being a bully. It’s cupboards full of peanut butter because no one ever empties the jars. It’s talking to the media, to reporters, all of them, talking, talking, talking – because no one had understood, not really, just how much Sid had shielded them from it. How much he’d done for them.

It’s finding ways to win games, clawing, scratching, biting. Failing if Geno is slumping, because there’s no Sid to score point after point while Geno is going through a stretch of no goals.

Playing without Sid, living without him, is a little like climbing a mountain, up, up, up. It’s hard, takes so much effort, and the air is so thin he shouldn’t be able to breathe, but he does because he has to. There are no other alternatives.

Geno breathes through the season, through the post-season, and then it’s over. He failed to reach the summit and now he’s plummeting down, down, down.

He’d be furious any other time. He’d be resigned and relieved in equal measures: his season is over, but he gets to go home.

This time, there is only an itch under his skin, a tug at his chest and a _need_.

Geno goes home.


	35. Sid/Geno - Non-hockey AU, summer olympics au (5 head canons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "summer olympics au (▰˘◡˘▰) please and thank you"

1\. Geno is a gymnast. No one looking at him would question this.

2\. Sidney plays badminton. Professionally. As in he represents Canada as a badminton player. He is, in fact, their lone male representative. Everybody questions this.

3\. It doesn’t make sense, is the thing. Zhenya feels a little as if his world has been tilted on its axis. How can someone so beautiful, so athletic, with such exemplary _ass_ ets, be a _badminton player_? Of all the useless things to–

“Ex _cuse_ me? Badminton is _not_ useless! Just because you don’t see the value of it doesn’t make it any less worthwhile than gymnastics–”

4\. Zhenya should work on keeping his thoughts to himself.

5\. It takes Zhenya a lot of sweet talking and his not inconsiderable charm before Sidney agrees to forgive him his horrendous transgression. He’s not completely satisfied, though, until Zhenya promises that when he wins gold (because of course he will) and is being interviewed after, he will take a second to acknowledge that badminton is superior to all other sports.

Zhenya thinks this is a little excessive (and a lot untrue), but well, he really likes Sidney and would like to stay in his good graces, thank you very much.

(Also, it turns out that Sidney gives truly spectacular BJs. Zhenya is maybe willing to go to great lengths to be on the receiving end of those.)


	36. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, domestic fluff (Silver Fox)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is grey in Sid's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "geno affectionately calling sid a silver fox, whilst stroking sid’s hair [sid maybe in geno’s lap??]"

“I can’t believe I’m going grey already. I can’t believe Downs fucking plucked out one of my hairs!”

Zhenya chuckles at Sidney’s pout. Sid has only found a few grey strands, but he is choosing to make a big deal out of it. Zhenya isn’t quite sure why yet.

He cards his fingers through the fine strands of Sidney’s still-black hair, and Sid sighs, pushing up into the touch and budding his head against Zhenya’s hand like a spoilt cat. Zhenya smiles helplessly. He loves Sidney a lot. He loves that Sidney lets himself go like this, allowing Zhenya into his space when he’s surly and unguarded—where no camera can see them.

“Downs think is funny,” Zhenya tells him, looking down at where Sid is stretched out on the couch, head resting in Zhenya’s lap. “Know he don’t mean anything bad.”

“I know that!” Sidney looks off to the side, voice almost too low for Zhenya to hear when he says, “Maybe this proves I’m getting old. Maybe Rossi’s right; I’m past my prime.”

Ah. So that’s what this is about.

Zhenya rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “Rob Rossi never right,” he says, because that’s the understatement of the fucking year. “Why you listen to crazy talk? Is bullshit. You are Sidney Crosby, best hockey player in whole world. Anyone say different is wrong.”

Sidney loses some of his pout. He sneaks a look back at Zhenya. “You really think so?”

“For sure.”

Sid laughs. “For sure,” he echoes, and they smile at each other.

“But what about the grey hairs?” he asks after a while. “What if I turn grey all over?”

Zhenya hums. “Then you be my, hm, how you Americans say, silver fox?” He nods to himself. He’s pretty sure he’s right. “Yes, you’ll be my silver fox.”

“I’m Canadian, Geno,” Sidney says, but his smile is widening, and he finds Zhenya’s free hand, tangling their fingers together. “Silver fox, eh?” He lifts their joint hands to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to the pads of Zhenya’s fingers. “I guess that’s not so bad.”

“No,” Zhenya agrees as he continues to stroke Sidney’s hair. “Not so bad at all.”


	37. Sid/Geno - ABO-verse, mystery (Scent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhenya notices as they’re coming back from warmups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "a/b/o for the pictures you’re using as prompts! :D"

Zhenya notices as they’re coming back from warmups.

His nostrils flare as he walks by Sidney into the dressing room, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Bennie clamp his hand around Derrick’s wrist, grip tight to keep the youngster from advancing on Sid.

Zhenya takes a moment to breathe deeply, savouring the sweet scent of an Omega approaching their heat; the smell lingers even after Sidney leaves the room.

Next to him, Tanger grumbles under his breath. “What the hell? He’s getting heat ready.”

It shouldn’t be happening; Sid only goes off his suppressants during the summer, but his scent doesn’t lie.

“Have to tell Coach,” Zhenya says, a bit of an understatement. Sidney himself won’t notice until he goes into actual heat, but any single Alpha within fifty feet of him is going to start displaying, aggressively letting Sid know they’re suitable heat partners.

Zhenya growls just thinking about it. The idea of a gaggle of Alphas courting Sid does not sit well with him.

He knows better than to analyse why.

Knowing he’s short on time before the first puck drops, he goes to find the coaching staff. Coach looks half-exasperated, half-enraged by the news, and Zhenya feels his pain. It seems every time they come close to having a healthy lineup, something happens, and as furious as Sid will be with them, there is no way they can let him play.

It’d be a fucking bloodbath on the ice.

Mike groans and rubs at his forehead. “I’ll go tell Sid. We’re going to have to find out what the hell happened. Those suppressants are no joke. If they’re not working that means someone tampered with them,” he says gravely.

Zhenya nods, clenching his hands. They all know Sid would never mess with the dosage, which means someone else did. It pisses him off.

Not only is it cruel, it’s dangerous, and it can only mean one thing.

Someone wants to hurt Sid.


	38. Sid/Geno + James Neal - Established relationship, sex injury, NSFW (Out Of Luck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck you, Sid! Like you wouldn’t get all up on this if you had the chance,” Nealer yells at him, and Geno makes a cut-off, strangled noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "s/g “I’ll never unsee that”"

“Oh, my God!”

“Sid! Is not what it looks!”

Sidney slaps a hand over his eyes and spins around, trying not to trip over his own two feet in his haste to avert his eyes.

“Why would you even- Oh, my- Gah! I’ll never unsee that!” he complains, just barely keeping from looking back over his shoulder. It’s like a train wreck; fucking tragic, but also disturbingly fascinating.

“Fuck you, Sid! Like you wouldn’t get all up on this if you had the chance,” Nealer yells at him, and Geno makes a cut-off, strangled noise.

“What? No! Ew!” Realising he’s going to have to deal with this shit, Sid turns back around, spreading his fingers wide enough to peek through. He grimaces at the sight that greets him, the same as when he first stepped into Geno’s bedroom. If Sid hadn’t been so secure in their relationship, he might have questioned what was going on here. As it is, he figures this is Nealer getting into some crazy shit as usual. He sighs, feeling a little nostalgic. He misses Nealer a lot sometimes.

“What did you do?” he asks, staring at where Nealer is bent over Geno’s bed. He’s naked from the waist down, though he’s still wearing his socks, and Geno has two fingers inside of him.

“Sid,” Geno says fiercely. “Is not what it looks! I promise, I’m not cheat!”

Sidney rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re not. Nealer is not at all your type.”

“Hey!” Nealer protests at that before grunting in pain when Geno jostles him.

“I’m not cheat ever,” Geno says, firm, and Sidney has to reward him for that. He walks over to them, bending to press a kiss to Geno’s lips, and wow, this is all incredibly weird.

“What did you do?” he asks Nealer again, eyeing where Geno’s fingers disappears into Nealer’s ass critically. “Shouldn’t you be back at the hotel? You’ve got a team curfew don’t you?”

“Lazy get butt plug stuck inside,” Geno tells him, blithely ignoring Nealer’s betrayed, “ _Geno!_ Shut the fuck up!”

“Didn’t want doctor, so come here,” Geno continues explaining, and yeah, Sidney thinks, that makes sense.

He sighs, rubbing at his temple tiredly. “How did this even happen?”

Nealer grumbles under his breath, reluctant, but he finally says, “Look, it’s not everyday I’m in Pittsburgh, all right? I got a text from one of my old hookups and it’s not like I was gonna say no, was I?”

No, Sidney doesn’t suppose so. Nealer is a huge manslut. This is a well established fact.

“Okay,” Sidney says. “And you what? Got freaky?” He can’t quite hold back his laugh, and when he meets Geno’s eyes, they both burst out into giggles.

“Shut up! Yeah, okay! We got freaky, or whatever. _Jesus._ Just get the fucking thing out of me!”

Nealer is clearly in some discomfort, and they shouldn’t be making fun of him like this, but honestly, the man keeps getting into the most incredibly bizarre situations; how are they _not_ supposed to laugh?

“I’m gonna leave you guys to it,” Sidney says, still chuckling, and leans in for another kiss from Geno before he heads for the door. He stops with his hand on the handle and turns, looking back at Geno before saying, “Be gentle with him, babe, he’s probably had it rough already.”

He walks out to Geno’s booming laugh and Nealer’s curses. _God_ , Sidney is never letting him forget this.


	39. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, mpreg (On the Way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is the one who finds it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "Sid/Geno, #16"
> 
> #16: “I did a pregnancy test.”

Chris is the one who finds it. He’s making his way down the aisle, headed to the back of the plane where some of the guys have got a poker game going.

He stops when he sees it, holding back an exasperated groan as he bends to pick it up, because really? He tries to be discreet about it, but Flower must smell blood in the water.

“What do you have there?” he asks, craning his neck so he can see over the back of his seat.

Chris only spares him a quick glance. “Nothing,” he says casually, and is about to move along when suddenly Tanger is in front of him.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, snatching the stick out of Chris’ hand before he can stop him. His eyes grow wide when he sees what it is. “It’s a pregnancy test.”

The sudden hush that falls over them must be obvious enough that even the guys at the back notice that something is going on.

“What’d you say?” Downie asks, and Tanger repeats, “A pregnancy test.”

It’s the shock, Chris knows, that’s making him so loose-lipped, because there is really only one person the test can belong to, and Tanger would never betray his confidence like this normally. He must be as stunned as the rest of them.

Frankly, Chris is impressed by how the guys are all very carefully keeping their eyes on Tanger and not the empty seat next to Flower. No one says what they’re all thinking, and Chris really has no idea where to go from here. He doesn’t know how to make this less awkward.

It’s a surprise then, when Derrick suddenly stands from his seat, looking determined as he announces, “It’s mine. I did a pregnancy test. Beau dared me.” He elbows Beau when he opens his mouth to no doubt deny any and all involvement, and says. “It must have slipped out of my bag.”

They stare at him for a moment, and Chris can’t help the warm feeling spreading inside his chest at Derrick’s unwavering loyalty. Tanger too, seems impossibly fond when he says, “It’s positive, Pooh bear, so unless you suddenly got the carrier gene overnight I’m thinking you’re not pregnant.”

Derrick looks insulted at this. “I could be pregnant!” he says, just as the door to the lavatory at the back of the plane opens and Sid and Geno stumbles out.

They’re smiling stupidly at each other, lips red and puffy from making out like a couple of teenagers, Chris suspects. They seem oblivious to the rest of them, they’re so wrapped up in each other, and Chris doesn’t think he’s the only one who notices the way Geno’s hand is splayed across Sid’s stomach, wide and possessive.

He quickly grabs the pregnancy test from Tanger’s hold, shoving it behind his back as Sid and Geno turn to look at them.

“What?” Sidney asks, his voice bright and happy even as he notices them watching, and Chris shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says pointedly, knowing the other guys will play along. Sid and Geno will tell them when they’re ready, sooner rather than later, he thinks. “Nothing at all.”


	40. Olli Maatta/Derrick Pouliot - Small crush, supportive teammates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Can we consider maybe there being some cuteness in wbs? I mean they spent some time together there as teammates, maybe olli helped pooh settle in pit when he came up? Maybe olli started crushin when pooh first introduced himself"

~~They didn’t, actually~~. After he was drafted, Olli played that year with the London Knights in the OHL, and the next year he so impressed the Penguins that he made the roster straight out of camp.

Meanwhile, Derrick played for the Portland Winterhawks in the WHL (for Mike Johnston) and didn’t really play for the WBS before last season. It wasn’t until December last year, when everyone and their mothers was out with some kind of injury/illness, that he was called up to the Pens.

Derrick gets the call and spends about ten minutes freaking out before the excitement overtakes him. The NHL! He’s going to play in the NHL! 

Everyone dreams of their first game being the stuff of legends, and while it’s not exactly a game for the history books, and it’s not on his first shift, Derrick scores a goal on his first shot – just like Mario Lemiuex.

Olli…Olli watches it all from the press box. It’s not so bad. That’s what he tells himself. Duper is there with him, and that makes it better. He cheers when Derrick scores his goal, cheers when Sid scores his, back from a case of the mumps (the mumps!). He cheers when they win the game, and for a minute, maybe two, he’s not thinking about the cancer or his busted shoulder or that he’s not playing hockey. Isn’t sharing the ice with Derrick. Isn’t there on the ice with him for his first goal, to bump fists after.

But time doesn’t stand still and the clock ticks on. The minute passes and Derrick has scored a goal, the Pens have won the game, and Olli still can’t play.

It’s a depressing thought. He finds it hard to muster up a grin when he and Duper make their way down from the press box. They’re miserable together, the two of them. But.

Duper tells him, “There’s more than hockey, Olli. More to life than ice under your feet and a stick in your hand. But you will play again. Remember that.”

Olli smiles and nods, and doesn’t quite believe it, ever. It seems so far-fetched, so far into the future even though they tell him, everyone, that he’ll play next season for sure.

It’s a depressing thought and Olli is a little depressed, his world a little grey. A lot grey, even.

“Hey, man! Did you see my goal?” 

Olli blinks to realise that Derrick is suddenly before him, hair sweaty and cheeks flushed. He’s grinning wildly. 

Olli clears his throat awkwardly. It takes him a second to remember his English. “I did. It was awesome! Great job!” 

Derrick’s grin widens.

Olli smiles back.


	41. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, domestic fluff (In the Kitchen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> northisnotup inquired: "“Give me a hand!”"

The smell washes over him the minute he steps into the house, and Zhenya takes a deep breath, smiling at the familiar scent teasing his nostrils.

“Sid?” he calls out, hanging his coat on the rack and stepping out of his shoes.

“In the kitchen!”

Zhenya walks the short distance from the hallway to the kitchen, stopping to lean against the door frame, smiling softly at the sight in front of him. Sid is by the stove, eyes narrowed as he looks from the recipe book to the food simmering in the pan. Zhenya chuckles at the unhappy look on his face.

Sid turns to look at him, his lips pursed into a small pout. Not that Sid would ever admit it. “Don’t just stand there. You’re the one who insisted we try out this stupid recipe. At least give me a hand!”

Zhenya hums. “What people say, hm, if I’m tell the great Sidney Crosby need help to cook?” He walks over, wrapping his arms around Sidney’s waist before pressing up against his back, nosing at his soft hair.

There are times in Zhenya’s life that seem impossibly perfect, where there is no pain, no stress, no worries. Just Zhenya, and Sid. Always Sid.

“Maybe they’ll ask why you don’t help when your fiancee attempts to make you dinner,” Sid says, but there is no bite to his words and he lets his head fall back against Zhenya’s shoulder.

“Maybe,” Zhenya agrees, and starts pressing kisses to Sidney’s neck, humming against the smooth skin.

“ _Geno_ ,” Sidney breathes out. “Stop it. You’re distracting me. I’m gonna burn the food.”

Zhenya smiles. Sidney says one thing but means another; he tilts his head to the side for easier access. “Don’t care.

Sidney huffs. “Well, I do. And just so you know, _you_ are going to be making dinner for the rest of the week.”

“Yes, yes. I’m make food,” Zhenya says, and turns Sid around in his arms so he can give him a proper kiss.


	42. Sid/Geno + Troy Crosby - H/C, secret relationship, outside POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He decides sending a text will be easier than calling, but stops up short when he sees the inbox history. His jaw drops and his eyes grow wide.
> 
> What the hell? This is far more than he ever wanted to know about his son’s sex life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "Prompt: Sid in the jaw protector, the h/c one"

“’ere’s Geno?” Sidney asks, and Troy’s head slips off his hand, straightening in his seat when he realises his son is awake.

“Sid? Buddy? How are you feeling?” He leans forward, gently brushing a few stray locks off Sidney’s forehead. It doesn’t matter that Sid is a grown man, Troy hates seeing his kid like this.

Sidney’s eyes move under his lids. He groans in discomfort, and Troy reaches for the call button. The doctors had told him to let them know as soon as Sid woke up.

“Hurts.”

“I know, kiddo. We’ll get you on the good stuff, okay?” Troy tells him. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Jaw. Surgery.”

Troy smiles, relieved. Drugs made Sidney forgetful. “That’s right, kiddo. Doc said everything went perfectly. You should make a full recovery.”

He watches as Sidney pries open his eyes, squinting against the light before he sees Troy. He looks confused.

“Dad? Where’s Geno?” His eyes flicker around the room as if he’s expecting Geno to be hidden away in a corner.

Troy’s brows shoot up. He’s feeling a little confused himself. “At his house, probably. I don’t know, kiddo. Do you want me to call him?”

Sid nods, and he looks so distraught by Geno’s absence that Troy isn’t even thinking before he reaches for the phone on the nightstand, stupidly glad that his son still uses the same lock code. He really should talk to him about that, he thinks as he taps in 1987 and pulls up the contact list.

He decides sending a text will be easier than calling, but stops up short when he sees the inbox history. His jaw drops and his eyes grow wide.

What the hell? This is far more than he ever wanted to know about his son’s sex life.

Jesus. How had he not known about this?

“So, kiddo,” he says after firing off a quick text, telling Geno that Sid was awake and asking him to come to the hospital. “How long have you and Geno been seeing each other?”

“Five months,” Sidney mumbles distractedly and then conveniently falls back asleep, leaving Troy to mull over the fact that his son has been in what appears to be a committed relationship with his teammate for the better part of half a year.

Sidney sleeps through the doctor stopping by to check his vitals, and Troy stepping out for a quick bite to eat.

When he comes back, Sid is awake and Geno is there. He’s taken Troy’s seat, and is staring at Sidney with such naked affection Troy can only watch silently for a moment.

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” Sidney is saying.

Geno chuckles at Sid’s pout. “Said didn’t need to, remember? Said you were okay with papa Crosby.”

Sidney wrinkles his nose. “Why’d you listen? That’s stupid, you’re stupid.”

“No,” Geno says. “ _You’re_ stupid.” He’s smiling, and when he leans over to kiss Sidney’s cheek, his temple, and the corner of his mouth, Sidney is smiling too, wide and unrestrained.

Some of that is probably the good drugs they have him on, but mostly, Troy thinks, it’s Geno.

He will be having a conversation with Sidney about this, but for now, Troy is content to leave the two of them, exiting the room and giving them a moment to themselves.


	43. Prompt meme - 15 ficlets

_Anonymous asked:_

_How about Sid/Geno, haute couture?_

* * *

“Tell me again why we’re at a fashion show on our day off?” Sidney hisses, ducking out of the way as a group of intimidatingly beautiful women stalk past him in what Tanger tries to assure him is the height of fashion. They look like strutting peacocks. Beautiful and utterly baffling. 

“Because my fiancée wants her wedding dress to be made by Evgeni Malkin, and what my fiancée wants my fiancée gets.”

Sid rolls his eyes. He’s happy for Tanger and Catherine, but they’re sickeningly in love, and if Sidney has to suffer through another day of wedding planning he’s going to scream.

“Who is this Malkin guy anyway?”

“Is me,” a voice says close to his ear, and Sidney startles, spinning around and looking up and up and up. He takes in the man standing before him, tall, broad shouldered, and with a smug smirk playing at his full mouth.

He’s exactly Sidney’s type, because of course. Well then.

* * *

_[aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_Because it is my life's work to get all of the words to this prompt: on ice injury, any ship_

* * *

Beau knows as soon as he goes down.

He’s not getting back up.

“Beau! Shit, shit, shit. You’re okay, it’s okay, just don’t move.” Dumo reaches him first, falling to his knees next to the twisted mess that is Beau’s legs. His hands hover over Beau’s form, gloves still on, unsure of what to do. “It’s okay,” he says again, but Beau knows it’s not.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he says, but Dumo doesn’t hear him, not over the sound of the jeering crowd or his teammates trying to fight everyone not in a Penguins shirt.

“It’s fine, you’re okay. Everything is gonna be okay.” Dumo grabs onto his hand, follows him as they lift Beau onto a stretcher and roll him off the ice.

Beau can barely see straight; he’s in shock. “I can’t feel my legs,” he repeats, and this time his voice is drowned out by a multiple of sticks hitting the ice and the standing ovation saluting his exit.

* * *

_stars-benn said: "Bennguin where Tyler tells Jamie how stupid his goatee looks"_

* * *

“Babe, is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

Jamie carefully keeps his eyes on his phone and adopts an air of innocence.

Tyler plops down next to him on the couch, reaching out to swipe Jamie’s snapback off his head. “Yeah, that innocent look is not gonna work with me, lover boy,” he says over Jamie’s wounded, “Hey!”

“What’s with all this, then?”

Jamie finally puts his phone away, turning his head to look at the handful of razors in Tyler’s hand. “Looks like razors.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “I can _see_ that. Why were they in my toiletry bag? The _only_ thing in my toiletry bag?”

Jamie grins at him. He leans over, pressing a kiss to Tyler’s lips, wrinkling his nose when Ty’s facial hair scratches against his chin. “So you can shave, of course.”

“Are you saying my beard don’t look good, ‘cause babe, my beard looks _good_.”

Jamie snorts. “I’m saying your goatee looks stupid, and,” he says when Tyler opens his mouth to protest, visibly offended, “if you want to keep making out, you’ll get rid of it.”

“Babe!” Tyler gasps, and Jamie takes off, cackling. He’s not sure Tyler will really shave it off, but it was worth it for the look on his face alone.

* * *

_[greennonmonster](https://greennonmonster.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_Sid/Geno Kitten adopts human_

* * *

The kitten is black, unfortunately and unavoidably.

“It’s black,” Sidney says. He stares at the kitten. The kitten stares back at him.

Evgeni can work with this. “Yes,” he says, thinking fast. The trick is not to let Sid’s superstitions work against them, but for them. The kitten is black, and Evgeni can’t do anything about that, but it’s cute and fluffy and if he somehow manages to make the kitten lucky instead of _un_ lucky, Sid won’t be able to refuse.

“Is black. Pittsburgh black! We get gold collar and will be mascot! Best mascot. Much luck. Look!” Evgeni holds the kitten out towards Sid and does a mental fist bump when Sidney doesn’t take a step back. Score!

“But it’s black,” Sidney says. He’s not screaming for Evgeni to get rid of it though—not that he would, he’s too polite for that; he’d withhold sex until it was gone instead. “You think it will be good luck?” Sid asks hesitantly, and Evgeni just barely holds back a smile.

“Best luck,” he promises, and knows it’s true.

* * *

_[taylorj8771](https://taylorj8771.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_If you're still taking prompts… Sid/Geno, real life sex (I.e. One gets a leg cramp, position is just not doing it for one of them, etc.)_

* * *

“Ow, ow, ow, what the fuck, Geno, what the hell is this shit? Get it off, get it off!” Sidney’s hands clench in the sheets, his knees giving out from under him as he tries to alleviate the burning sensation on his thighs and ass.

“Shit, shit,” Geno murmurs from behind him. He tries to wipe off the lube with his hand first, but it’s covered with the stuff, only pushes it further into Sid’s crack, and Sidney flinches away from him in obvious pain. Fuck. This is the last time Geno ever listens to sex advice from Lazy ever again.

Sex on fire, indeed.

“It fucking burns, G, get it off.”

Geno hisses in sympathy, eyes narrowed on the redness spreading over Sid’s milky white skin. He reaches for the sheets, pulling until it comes loose enough so he can wipe off the lube, uncaring about the mess, rolling his eyes when Sid says, “You’re making a mess, just get a towel.”

“Bossy,” Geno says, and bends to press a kiss over the redness around Sid’s hole.

Sid sucks in a breath. “Geno,” he moans, and Geno curses Lazy again. That was definitely a good moan, but the redness on Sid’s skin is spreading, and Geno thinks it might be the beginnings of a nasty rash.

“Come on. Should go see doctor, I’m think you allergic to lube.”

Sid moans again, annoyed this time, and Lazy is going to laugh and laugh when he finds out.

* * *

_Anonymous asked:_

_for a prompt: sid/g important anniversary?_

* * *

Evgeni knows something is up the the second he walks into the kitchen. There are pancakes on the table. Breakfast pancakes, with the special kind of Canadian maple syrup Sidney only brings out for special occasions or when he’s feeling especially naughty.

(Evgeni is a big fan of naughty Sid)

“Good morning,” he says carefully. A special occasion usually means celebrating an event or anniversary, and there’s been no special events happening that he’s aware of. Which means an anniversary, which means it can be anything, because Sid is a closet romantic who likes to commemorate everything from their first kiss to the first time they ever spoke to each other, to the first point they ever shared.

(Sid has a lot of hockey anniversaries, it usually works out well for Evgeni)

“Morning,” Sid says brightly. He walks up to Evgeni, leaning into him and giving him a long, slow kiss.

Evgeni hums into it. “What’s with pancakes for breakfast?” he murmurs against Sidney’s lips. “Is special occasion?”

“Uh huh.” Sidney tilts his head to the side, closing his eyes when Evgeni starts kissing down his neck.

“And what is special occasion?”

Sidney smiles, finds Evgeni’s mouth for another kiss. “Another day with you,” he says, all sugary sweet, and it’s maybe a little embarrassing, because Sid’s so earnest about it, so giddy and in love and Evgeni has no idea how he got this lucky, but he’s not about to question it now.

“Is very special occasion,” Evgeni agrees, and kisses Sidney some more.

* * *

_Anonymous asked:_

_Sid/geno supernatural creatures in the nhl au, where one is human and the other isnt_

* * *

Russia, for reasons no one likes to remember, is devoid of supernaturals and have been so for near a century now. Having grown up surrounded by humans, only, means Zhenya is a little behind on proper supernatural courting etiquette.

Specifically fairy courting, of which Zhenya wants to engage in with Sid, who is a fairy, fairy wings and fairy dust and all.

“It’s all about the wings,” Tanger tells him knowingly, and Zhenya, the idiot that he is, thinks Tanger would know, because Tanger is the descendant of seraphs and surely knows all about wings even if he doesn’t have them himself.

(It’s _not_ all about the wings, Zhenya finds out. In fact, the wings are to be left alone at all cost.)

What it’s about, is the fairy dust.

“The fairy dust?” Zhenya says sceptically. He watches Sidney smile shyly, and feels himself smile automatically in response. 

“The fairy dust,” Sidney repeats, glancing quickly at Zhenya before looking back at where he’s sprinkled fairy dust between them. “Fairies are very in tune with nature, more so than most supernaturals. We’re all about instincts. My fairy dust is a physical representation of this; it feeds into my natural affinity, which is water.” He scowls for a second. “It’s why I don’t get along with most of the Flyers. They’re all fire types.” 

He glares when Zhenya can’t help but snort at this. 

“So how this work?” Zhenya asks quickly in an attempt to distract him, and Sidney narrows his eyes at him, but continues on explaining.

“I throw the fairy dust on you; if we’re a good match, you’ll feel the magic.”

“The magic?” is all Zhenya has time to say before suddenly he’s covered in fairy dust, staring wide-eyed at a grinning Sid.

“Do you feel it?” Sidney asks eagerly, and Zhenya nods. He does. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, buzzing under his skin, filling him with a sense of happiness and power and _magic_ , and Zhenya thinks he’s never loved Sidney more. “We match,” he says.

“Yes,” Sidney says, smiling with happy satisfaction. “We match.”

* * *

_[aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_For the fic meme: Flower/someone, trade angst_

* * *

Marc-André puts on the green jersey for the first time and almost throws up when his eyes move to the big silver crest. He turns his back to the mirror, unable to look at the logo. 

There’s only ever been a Penguin there before. Now it wont be. Probably never again.

“Victory Green,” Vero says gently. “Looks good on you.”

“Black and gold looks good on me,” he snaps back, and pulls a face when Vero’s mouth goes taught.

“I’m sorry. I’m just–”

“Adjusting?” Vero offers, and smiles at him hesitantly. 

She’s so good to him. Always has been. Marc-André knows she’s so far out of his league it’s not even funny; he hopes Vero never figures that out.

He turns to look back at the mirror. “Victory Green, eh?”

It’s still too green, the logo is wrong, and Marc-André really does look better in black and gold. But there are worse colours, and Victory Green? Seems fitting.

Marc-André is a champion, after all.

* * *

_[aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_Prompt meme: Ship of your choice, coming out_

* * *

“I want you to fuck me,” Conor blurts out. He blanches and starts backtracking. “I mean, I want you to fuck me while Jordan watches. I mean, I want all of us to–” Conor gestures with his hands in the air, searching for words.

Next to him, Jordan shakes her head, incredulous. “Oh my god,” she whispers.

“I’m bi,” Conor finishes finally, and that seems safer. Even Jordan pats his back in _good boy_ kind of way. 

Probably, Conor should have started with that.

Across the table, fork raised halfway to his mouth, Junior stares at them both. “ _What_?”

Yup. Conor definitely should have opened with being bi.

* * *

_[aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_Prompt meme: Sid/Flower, on ice injury_

* * *

Sid doesn’t remember the hit. He doesn’t remember losing his helmet, or falling to the ice.

He doesn’t remember the back of his head slamming against the cold surface, or the blood, thick and red on his hands because Sid doesn’t pass out; he reaches into his hair, feeling for the open wound, and if he has to guess, he was probably thinking nothing in that moment.

His mind as blank then as it is now, searching for the memory.

Sid doesn’t remember the hit, or the injury, or the blood.

This is what Sid remembers:

Flower, talking in his ear, “…with me, Sid, just stay with me. Don’t close your eyes, don’t your dare…”

This is what Sid remembers:

Flower.

* * *

_Anonymous asked:_

_S/G, something with Sid's laugh_

* * *

Look, Zhenya is freaking hilarious in Russian, ask anybody, but it’s not lost on him that it doesn’t really translate.

More often than not, the guys will laugh at him rather than with him, and while it’s never mean-spirited, Zhenya sometimes wishes they’d just _understand_.

Not Sid though. Sid can never know how funny he is or isn’t in Russian, because Sid thinks Zhenya is a fucking delight, and Zhenya is pretty sure he wouldn’t actually live up to how funny Sid seems to believe he is.

Zhenya can say rain is wet, and Sid will laugh himself silly as long as Zhenya says it the _right_ way.

He maybe sometimes takes advantage of this. He maybe kinda likes Sid’s ridiculous laugh.

A lot, maybe.

(Zhenya likes a whole lot more than just Sid’s laugh, to be honest.)

* * *

_[aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://aggressivelybicaptainamerica.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_If you still want my wierd prompts abs ships: Flower/Tanger/Duper_

* * *

Pascal would just like everyone to know that the handcuffs were Tanger’s idea and Flower brought the alcohol.

(The monkey was there when they woke up. They’re still not sure what happened there.)

* * *

_Anonymous asked:_

_any pairing, fall...if you're still taking prompts!_

* * *

Sidney nuzzles closer. He sighs in contentment as Geno draws him in tight, tucking his coat around Sidney to shield him from the cool wind.

“Cold?”

Sidney shakes his head. He smiles up at Geno before jutting out his bottom lip the way he knows Geno can’t resist.

Geno chuckles knowingly. “Spoilt,” he accuses, but bends down to give Sidney his kiss, humming into it and tugging Sidney impossibly closer until some of their teammates start jeering and warning them to keep it PG.

“Come on, love birds. Plane is ready to go.”

Sidney breaks away from Geno reluctantly. He turns his head to look at Flower. “Fine,” he pouts, and hides his smile when they chirp at him, Geno calling him spoilt again, and Flower making obnoxious kissing noises.

They’re idiots, but Sidney loves them a lot. He breathes in.

Summer’s good, but October’s been a long time coming.

Hockey’s back.

* * *

_[taylorj8771](https://taylorj8771.tumblr.com/) asked:_

_Any pairing with a language barrier (for example, Sid/geno, Phil/carl, etc., you pick!) Suddenly having ESP closed captioning of the other person's first language._

* * *

“.. _Jag har sett hur den där skiten alltid tär på dig…jag kommer kriga för din skull och finnas där för dig…när du stupar nästa gång så vill jag bära dig…låt mig vara din soldat_.”

“Seriously, Phil? Swedish music again? Should listen to Russian, is best.”

Phil looks up with a grin when Geno plucks an ear bud from his ear and presses it against his own. He makes an exaggerated face, but he can’t hide the way his head starts automatically bobbing in time to the music.

Phil’s grin widens. “Hags likes it. It’s not so bad. Some of the songs are really good.”

Geno makes another face. “But you don’t understand,” he says, which is a fair point, Phil supposes, but–

“Music is more than words. I don’t need to understand to like it.” Phil shrugs. “And it makes Hags happy. I don’t mind taking an interest for him. Wouldn’t you for Sid?”

Which really isn’t even a question; Phil has never known anyone as devoted to each other as Sid and Geno.

Geno smiles ruefully. “Yes, would listen to bad country music all day for Sid.” He wrinkles his nose distastefully, but he leaves it at that, giving Phil his headset back and leaving him to his Swedish pop tunes.

Just for that, Phil does him the solid of not mentioning to Sid how Geno’d been muttering unflattering things about Tim McGraw under his breath.

No reason to make the man sleep on the couch.

* * *

_Anonymous asked:_

_Are you still doing prompts?! I would love to see diplomat Malkin and diplomat Crosby, maybe at a reception/state dinner together... (I still can't let go of that gif of them laughing together at the WH!)_

* * *

Conor haphazardly runs a hand through his hair, pushes at his glasses to keep them on his nose, and bites his lips guiltily before reaching out to swap a couple of name tags.

He’s only been a White House aide for a little over a year, but Conor has learnt several things in that time, three of which are absolute:

1\. Barack is the President, but Michelle is in charge.

2\. The White House chefs make truly excellent fries.

3\. Ambassador Malkin and Crown Prince Sidney should never be separated. Ever.

Normally, this would not be a problem. As Conor was readily informed before the first joint visit that he was there for, everyone knows this. The Ambassador will pout and loudly complain and generally be a grouch, while the Crown Prince will stoically pine and it will be horrible for everyone involved.

(Conor had thought this a bit of an exaggeration, but has since been proven wrong.)

Even the President makes sure to send out a memo when Sid and Geno come to the White House – which would have been just fine if only the intranet hadn’t crashed earlier that morning and the staff responsible for the seating arrangements never got the memo.

Which means that the seating arrangements – not to be messed with on pain of death – have not had the Crown Prince’s surprise visit taken into consideration.

Neither has the Russian ambassador, apparently.

“Sid,” Geno says, all soft and pleased when he sees the Crown Prince in the seat next to his, and Conor kinda feels like squealing into his hands by all the feelings – just by being in their immediate vicinity.

(It’s a lot, is what he’s saying.)

* * *


	44. Sid/Geno - Courting gift, friends to lovers, extravagant gesture (I'd Lasso the Moon For You)

“You bought him a mountain?”

“Yes.”

“For Sid. You bought Sid a mountain? The same Sid who talked me out of buying him a watch for Christmas because it was too much money?”

“Should never have said how much it cost,” Geno says sagely.

Kris pinches the bridge of his nose and tries very hard not to slap Geno over the head. Geno can’t afford to lose what little of the remaining brain cells he has left because the man has clearly gone out of his damn mind.

“It’s a _mountain_.”

“It’s a token of our love!”

Kris stares, speechless. “You’re not even together,” he croaks out finally.

Geno shuffles sheepishly at that. “It’s, how you say, courting gift? I’m going to woo him. It’s best present!”

 _Mon Dieu_ , Kris mouths soundlessly. His friend is an idiot. “You are going to–? Sid has no idea, does he?” he demands. Sid and Geno have been flitting around each other for as long as Kris has known them – they’re _Sid and Geno_ , but it’s never been more than playful flirting, never tipped over into actual romance.

Kris hadn’t even known it was something Geno wanted.

Geno grins, unrepentant. “You think he’ll like?”

And, yes. Sid will be horrified – it’s too much, too obvious, it’s a _mountain_ – but also charmed, because it’s Geno and Sid has always been stupid for Geno and the dumb things he does.

“…yes,” Kris admits, and when Geno beams at him, pleased, Kris shakes his head, his lips twitching into a smile of his own.

Things are about to get interesting.

*

“I can’t believe you got me a mountain,” Sid says again, his tone gently scolding. 

Kris snorts at the weak attempt at disapproval. As if no one can see the pleased grin on Sid’s face whenever he looks at Geno, then at the view, and then back at his new husband.

“I can’t believe he named it Mount Sidney,” Horny mumbles next to him, tugging lightly at his tie, and not even Kris can hide his grin at that. More than buying the mountain for him, naming it after Sid was the most Geno thing ever. Absolutely no one had been surprised. Not even Sid.

“Of course you did,” he’d said when Geno told him. Geno had been all smiles, chest puffed out proudly in a _I’ve done good_ kind of way. The kiss Sid had given him in response had probably done little to discourage Geno and his ridiculous ideas.

Kris suspects that’s how they ended up getting married on the mountain in question.

“You happy?” he hears Geno ask Sid. He’s roped Sidney into his arms, nosing at his temple before pressing a soft kiss there. Kris thinks Geno has yet to let Sid out of his reach since they gave each other their I dos.

“Yes,” Sidney says, and the smile he gives Geno is so soft, so full of love Kris feels warm with it, has to hold back a chuckle at the coos he can hear coming from Horny and Haggy.

He’s about to suggest that they give Sid and Geno a minute to themselves when Sidney continues and says, “I’m over the moon. I love you so much,” and Geno lights up, his eyes gleaming.

“I’m buy you the moon!”

Kris shares a horrified look with Horny and Haggy.

“Geno, no!”

*

oMG! I’m trying to think of which of the guys would love to tease them about it, but I keep getting stuck on Geno trolling them all by telling them he’s going to Mount Sidney that weekend.

“You mean you and Sid are going hiking,” Kris says. He eyes Geno warily.

“Nope.” Geno pops the ‘p’ loudly, grinning wide as he wiggles his brows obnoxiously. “I’m going to _mount Sidney_ this weekend.”

Kris stares. Somewhere in the room he can hear Sid hiss out a scandalised, “ _Geno!_ ” and what sounds like Duper choking on his own spit.

“Oh my God!”


	45. Sid/Geno - Hand holding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> werewolfzero asked:  
> 28 Sid/Geno
> 
> #28: Hand holding

Zhenya has never been the handholding type.

He’s had girlfriends complain about it, saying it was one of his failings as a good and dutiful boyfriend.

Even the first guy he ever dated once mentioned off handedly that he wished Zhenya wasn’t so adversed to holding hands, that it would be a nice and subtle way of showing affection in public.

Zhenya has no problem with public affection. He’s been told to get a room by annoyed teammates more times than he cares to remember.

He just doesn’t like to hold hands.

It always gets too clammy after a while, and once, by his idiot brother, he’d been told it looked as though he was walking about with a child.

To be fair, his then-girlfriend hadn’t even been 160cm tall and she’d been wearing flats, but still.

So when Sidney reaches for his hand, smiling up at him hesitantly, Zhenya is about to gently extract from his hold and explain his whole deal about handholding.

Before he can, though, Sidney quickly leans into him, flushing slightly as he presses a soft kiss to Zhenya’s lips.

Zhenya is stunned.

Sidney never, _never_ shows his affection so openly. They’ve only been dating for three months, but Zhenya knew this to be true even before they went from friends to lovers.

It must be the heat of the summer sun, then, that makes him so brave. Or maybe the knowledge that here, among the crowd of the French Riviera, the chances of someone recognising them are so slim.

It’s the first time they’re holidaying together. The first time they spend time together during the off season at all. 

And the first time they hold hands.

Their relationship is still so new that they’re experiencing a number of firsts all the time. Zhenya likes that, likes knowing that after their first date, first kiss, first I love yous, there will another one and another one after that.

He looks at Sidney, smiling at his blush and the way he’s grinning, bright and happy, up at Zhenya.

“Are you coming?” Sidney asks, already moving towards where a vendor is selling a wide selection of ice cream, cool and tempting.

Zhenya feels the tug on his hand, and instead of breaking their hold, he tightens his grip.

“Yes.”


	46. Sid/Geno - Highschool AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> northisnotup inquired: Highschool!

Geno looks at him stubbornly–and son of a bitch, Sid is going to do it. He really is.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out.

Geno brightens. “Mean you do?” he asks excitedly, as if there had ever been a chance that Sid would have said no.

Geno must know Sid was always going to cave, because he smirks and throws his arm over Sidney’s shoulder, drawing him close. “Best boyfriend,” he whispers. He presses a sloppy kiss against Sidney’s cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid says, blushing furiously. “But you owe me!”

Geno nods easily. He lets his arm fall from Sid’s shoulder, reaching out to grab his hand instead before dragging him along towards the biology lab. “Yes, I owe you big,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to leer at Sid, wiggling his brows meaningfully.

Sidney’s blush deepens.

They’ve been dating for two years already, but only started having sex after Sid turned sixteen. Sid is a big fan of sex, as it turns out.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says heatedly and squeezes Geno’s hand in punishment (he absolutely meant it like that).

Geno snickers, but keeps silent until they’re standing outside the lab, looking around in what he thinks is a subtle manner before crouching down to start picking at the lock.

Sidney bites his lip, looking around worriedly. “Hurry up!”

They’re going to get caught, he’s sure of it, and Principal Johnston is going to give them detention for the rest of the year. Oh, God, Sidney thinks, his mother is going to be furious. _Geno_ ’ _s_ mother is going to be furious–especially after the incident with the pig.

Why does Sidney keep letting his boyfriend talk him into this shit?

“Okay,” Geno says after the tell-tale snick of a picked lock, “let’s go.”

They hurry inside, moving purposefully to the back of the room to where a number of glass cages are stacked on top of each other, lined up against the wall.

“Is okay,” Geno whispers. “We save you now.”

Sidney looks at the frogs inside the cages. They’re green and slimy, and not cute at all no matter what Geno says, but Sidney feels nauseous just thinking about how the frogs will be gassed and then dissected by a bunch of teenagers.

“How are we gonna get them out without anyone seeing?” he asks. There’s too many frogs for them to just walk out the door, and the glass cages aren’t exactly subtle.

Geno scratches at the back of his head, and Sidney feels like slamming his head against a wall.

“You didn’t plan this far?” he hisses out accusingly.

Geno smiles sheepishly.

“Maybe let frogs out the window?” he suggests, and they both turn to look at the window that faces out towards the football field. They look back at each other and break out into matching grins.

Years later, the student body is still talking about that one time three dozens frogs ran rampant during football practice.

(They never find out who did it.)


	47. Sid/Geno + Derrick Pouliot - Established relationship, accidental footsie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "I’m not sure if you actually write them as a ship but would love Geno/Pouliot for number 22 from the semi nsfw meme xD"
> 
> #22: trying to play footsie with the other during a meeting
> 
> Not sure if this is what you were looking for, but this is sort of Geno/Pouliot but not really ;)

It’s game day, and they’re having team breakfast when Derrick feels a foot brush up against his leg.

He coughs into his glass, orange juice spilling down his chin. He straightens in his seat and looks around wildly.

Next to him, Sidney lifts his brows in concern. “You okay, Pooh Bear?” he asks as Derrick wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

“Yeah!” Derrick squeaks out, his voice unnaturally high. He clears his throat. “Uh, yes. I mean yes! I’m fine.”

Sidney eyes him sceptically, and across from them, as if he’s not trailing his foot up the inside of Derrick’s thigh, pressing down against his crotch, Geno looks at him weirdly.

“You sure, Pooh Bear?” he asks, and Derrick nods frantically.

It’s early yet, only the three of them around the table, so Derrick is absolutely sure that Geno is not actually coming on to him. No, no. Geno thinks he’s got his foot in _Sid’s_ lap, not Derrick.

Fuck. Nothing has ever prepared him for this.

Geno increases the pressure against his dick, and nope. Derrick is not doing this.

He shoots out of his chair, too flustered by the accidental sexual harassment to appreciate the way Geno startles, tipping forward in his seat without Derrick’s body keeping his balance.

Sidney looks between them, bursting into laughter when he sees the horrified look on Derrick’s face and Geno’s shocked one.

“Oh, my God!” he says, because he’s always been quick to pick up what others doesn’t see. He clutches at his stomach he’s laughing so hard. “Were you flirting with Pooh Bear, G? Did you think he was me?”

Geno recovers from his shock and starts grinning, finding the humour of it quicker than Derrick. “What, Pooh Bear? You don’t want to flirt? Don’t want my sugar?”

“Urgh, Geno, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Sid and Geno grin at each other before turning matching smirks on Derrick. “That is,” Sidney says, “unless you like it, Pooh Bear?”

Derrick glares at them. “I hate you both,” he hisses out.

They’re still laughing when he rushes out of the room, face red and his hands folded conveniently over his crotch.


	48. Beau Bennett & Nick Spaling - Friendship, gen, light angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: Spaling and Beau #9 (maybe about Bortz being traded? I mean if you want to)
> 
> #9: “You know, it’s okay to cry.“

Nick has already tossed his gear into the trunk of his car when he looks up and sees Beau.

He looks lost, standing in the middle of the garage, head turning this way and that way in search of a car that is no longer there.

Nick sighs. It’s heartbreaking to watch; Beau is still very young, but he needs to learn, needs to be tougher. Nick is only three years older, but he’s more experienced and better at adapting. Trades happen often in their line of work, and most of the time they suck. Beau already knows that, of course, but Nick thinks it’s never affected him so personally before.

“Hey, Sunshine. You need a ride home?”

Beau startles guiltily, and swivels around to look at Nick. “I–” He breathes in shakily, eyes looking a little wet as he says, “I forgot. Bort and I usually meet down here after practice, and we drive home together. But he’s not here, so.” He shrugs.

Nick frowns. How had he gotten to Southpointe this morning? “Did you take a cab over here, or?”

“Yeah,” Beau says, and that’s just sad.

Nick had been carpooling with Siller, like Beau and Borts, but now both of them are gone and only Beau and Nick are left. Nick, at least, still has his car, but Beau…

“Come on. I’ll drive you home,” he says, and does his best imitation of Sid’s _I am the captain do as I say_ look. Mostly, the guys listen to him not because Sid is particularly intimidating, but because it’s inherently understood that Geno will make life miserable for them if they don’t. Also, they’re hockey players–love for their captain is practically obligatory.

Beau visibly sags, and Nick figures he’s done a good enough job, even without the help of Geno looming behind him.

“Okay,” Beau says, and hefts his bag over his shoulder before walking over to Nick’s car. “Thanks.”

Nick gets inside, and waits until Beau has put on his seatbelt before he starts the engine. “You know,” he says as he puts the car in reverse and starts backing out of the parking spot. “It’s okay to cry. About Borts, I mean. No one will make fun of you.”

Beau laughs a little at that. “I know. It’s not that I feel like crying, though. It just hasn’t sunk in yet. I keep thinking I need to make dinner for two, or I’ll get out of the shower too soon because I’m not supposed to use up all the hot water. It’s just little stuff like that. And it sucks, you know. He’s my best friend and now he’s on another team. We’re not even in the same conference!” Beau’s laugh has turned bitter now, and when Nick glances over at him, there are tears running down his face.

He focuses his eyes back on the road, and keeps silent, giving Beau the illusion of privacy and a chance to surreptitiously wipe at his cheeks.

“Thanks for the ride, Spaler,” Beau says when Nick stops the car outside of his building. “I really appreciate it.”

Nick nods. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow. Be ready at nine.” He gives Beau a lazy two-fingered salute, and takes off before he gets the chance to protest.

He misses Siller, but Beau is a good kid, and Nick will be glad for the company.

Besides, it’s not like he can keep letting Beau take a cab. Carpooling just makes sense, he thinks, and resolves to tell Sidney about it, knowing he’ll approve and that Beau won’t dare to argue.

Not with Geno there, anyway. Tough love and all that, Nick thinks, and grins widely to himself.


	49. Sid/Geno - Pre-relationship, Keeper of the Cup!Sid, Penguins!Geno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Penguins are annual Cup champions. Mostly because Sidney Crosby is the Keeper of the Cup and Geno is stupidly in love with him.

omfg the au where the Penguins are legit annual Stanley Cup champions because Sidney Crosby is the Keeper of the Cup and Geno has been in love with him since that first summer in 2009 when he brought the Cup to Russia. Sid would be trailing after him everywhere like a worried mother, never far from the Cup. He’s alternatively frowning with Disapproval™ at whatever antics Geno and his crazy friends get up to or smiling wide at the kids swarming the Cup when Geno brings it to an orphanage in Moscow. 

It’s the most beautiful thing Geno has ever seen. It takes his breath away.

Geno wants to make Sid smile like that always.

He thanks the hockey gods that Gonch is also in Russia and decides he just _has_ to join in on whatever plans his friend has for the Cup. 

Sid eyes him doubtfully. “Well. It’s not really up to me who Gonch brings along to his Cup day.”

They both turn to look at Gonch, who is rolling his eyes so hard it looks physically painful. Geno graciously forgives Gonch the, “You’re a fucking idiot,” he murmurs under his breath in Russian because he follows that up with, “sure. If you want to delay your vacation for another day with the Cup.” 

Geno does. He really, really does.

(Only Sidney doesn’t know that Cup is code for him.)

It’s quite possibly the best summer of Geno’s life, spending his days with Sidney and the Cup. 

When it’s finally time for Sidney to pack up the Cup and leave Russia for Canada (he’s doing the French-Canadian circuit. Stupid Flower and Max and Tanger and–) Geno feels a little lost. He isn’t at all prepared for ~~Sidney~~ the Cup to leave already.

Gonch rolls his eyes at him. He’s been doing that a lot _._ “Just win it again next year and you’ll get to see them again.”

Which, obviously. Geno is gonna win that Cup if it’s the last thing he does.

(Anything to see Sidney’s smile again.)


	50. Sid/Geno - Marriage of convenience, 5 head canons, friends to lovers, post retirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 head canons. Post-retirement realisation of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> madlori asked:  
> If you're still doing the thing, sidgeno coming to Realizations after retiring and going their separate ways. 

1\. It’s not that Sidney forgets that they’re married or even their anniversary (how can he, with Geno sending him flowers every year), but he still manages to be surprised when he opens a package with a familiar return address and a little bouquet of crystal roses hidden inside.

Sidney blinks. He’d gotten paper roses that first year, wooden on the fifth, and tin on the tenth; they’re all beautifully made, delicate and obviously expensive.

Geno has always enjoyed spoiling him. And now he’s given him crystal roses, as beautiful as ever, for their fifteenth anniversary.

_Happy anniversary!_ Geno has written on a card with two penguins on the front. They’re holding a heart between them. _Miss you <3._

Something tightens in Sidney’s chest at the words, his breath hitching a little.

Maybe it’s time to get a divorce.

2\. Fifteen years ago, the US and Russia were on the brink of war. Russia issued a mandatory recall of all citizens abroad, and someone, somewhere, at some point told Geno, “But if you married someone with a US or Canadian citizenship, you could stay right?”

(It was Sidney.)

3\. Sid and Geno are married in name only. This suited Sidney just fine when they were still playing, when they retired, and even years after they both hung up their skates.

Now, though. Now Geno is back in Russia, mostly, and Sidney splits his time between Pittsburgh and Cole Harbour the way he always has; there’s really no need for them to be married anymore.

It’s taken him fifteen years, but Sidney is finally realising that he doesn’t want to be married if it’s in name only. Not even for Geno.

4\. Sidney is back in Pittsburgh for training camp, smiling indulgently at the new draft picks who are first starry eyed at his presence and then cursing him loudly when Sidney has put them through a few drills on the ice.

“You’re embarrassing,” Tanger chirps at them from the sideline, cackling when Olli barks at him to _shut the fuck up_ and _I’m too old for this shit, I’m retiring after this year, no really I am_.

“One more season,” Sidney bets Tanger, because Olli has threatened to retire every year since he turned 35, but even at 38 he’s still hanging in there; he’s the only one from the 2016 Cup team still left on the roster.

“Two,” Tanger counters, eyeing Olli thoughtfully.

“What you talking about?” a voice interrupts them, “it’s Olli. Will play forever.”

Sidney spins around on his skates. “Geno!” he exclaims when his gaze meets his husband’s. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Geno is frowning at him unhappily. He spares a glance at Tanger, before looking back at Sidney. He holds up a piece of paper. “Divorce, Sid?” he says, unimpressed.

Sidney blinks at him. _Oh_ , he thinks.

5\. Sidney has been in love with Geno since before he stood inside a judge’s office and said, “I do.” Apparently, Geno had felt the same.

Apparently.

(Sid and Geno are a couple of idiots, but this was not news to anyone—or so Tanger will tell them later, after Geno has finished explaining that he rushed back to Pittsburgh because fuck if he was letting Sidney divorce him without ever saying, “I love you, Sid. I’m _in love_ with you. Think you didn’t feel the same.”

Of course, Sidney feels the same. So, yeah. Idiots.)

+1. Sidney is 45 years old and has been married for fifteen of those when he finally, _finally_ , consumates his marriage.

+2. Geno is 46 and as smug as Sidney has ever seen him. That’s okay. Sidney is pretty smug too. Often.


	51. Sid/Geno + Natalia Malkin - Falling in love, outside POV, implied mpreg, 5 head canons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 head canons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amazingalaina asked:  
> I dont know if you're still doing prompts, but maybe 5 things s/g and mama malkin? Please and thank youuu

1\. Natalia suspects there might be something between them from the start. Zhenya calls home after arriving in Pittsburgh. He says, “I met Mario Lemiuex, Mama, _Le Magnifique_ ,” before the rest of the conversation turns to Sidney Crosby:

“He’s going to be the best player in the world, Mama.”

“He might already be the best. He’s _so good_.”

“He’s…I don’t know how to explain it, Mama.”

Natalia nods along agreeably. Her Zhenya will find the words soon enough.

2\. The first time they meet in person, Natalia takes one look at Sidney’s nervous smile, his shuffling feet and the way he stutters out a shaky, “Privet,” and thinks, _oh Zhenya. You never stood a chance, did you?_

3\. When Zhenya calls and spends nearly three hours talking in circles before he finally confesses that he’s dating Sidney now, Natalia isn’t really surprised.

(She _is_ surprised when Sidney calls a couple of years later, determinedly trudging through a conversation that basically boils down to Sidney asking her permission to marry her son.

She doesn’t think he needs it, but she gives it all the same.)

4\. Natalia worries, sometimes, that Zhenya will forget where he’s from, will forget his Russian roots. She understands; he didn’t leave on the best of terms, and they’re so good to him over there in Pittsburgh, with their English and their Penguins hockey and American culture. With Sidney.

She thinks, _my son is not coming home at the end of it_ , because there is Sidney, who Zhenya will not leave, not ever, and there is Russia—not really a suitable place for two men in love.

But then Zhenya flies her and Volodya over for another visit, and it’s Sidney picking them up at the airport, greeting them in his broken Russian. It’s Sidney saying, shy, “Will you teach me recipes? For Geno. Zhenya. When he homesick.” He smiles at her hopefully.

Natalia worries a little less those times.

5\. “Her name is Nadine,” Sidney tells her tiredly from the bed. Natalia barely pays him any attention, but she’s certain Sidney will forgive her in the face of the newborn staring up at her from her arms. She is so tiny; her eyes are dark, like Zhenya’s.

No question of parentage there, Natalia thinks, and laughs a little to herself, a wet, happy sound. “She’s so beautiful,” she says. She angles her arms so Volodya can peer at their granddaughter from over her shoulder.

“I did good, didn’t I, Mama?” Zhenya asks, and Natalia laughs again, looking over at where her son is beaming proudly from his chair next to Sidney’s bed.

She doesn’t think he means just the baby.

“You do good?” Sidney asks indignantly. “ _I_ do all the work.”

“Yes, yes,” Zhenya agrees. He leans over so he can kiss Sidney gently. “Did best,” Zhenya whispers to him in English. “Did so good, Sid.”

Sidney seems mollified by this. “I guess you helped a little.”

Natalia ignores them and looks back at the baby in her arms. She’s fairly sure that Nadine is the prettiest baby she’s ever seen.

Volodya agrees. “Remember when Zhenya was this small?” he asks quietly.

Natalia snorts. “Zhenya was never this small,” she denies, but she remembers. Remembers holding both of her babies and thinking, _You’ll do great things one day_.

She looks at her granddaughter, at Nadine, and thinks the same now.

Like her daddy. Both of them.


	52. Sid/Geno - Fluff, little penguins, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hazel!hi! Are you still doing the thing? If yes sidgeno with the Little penguins

1\. The first couple of years after Sidney starts the Little Penguins program, Geno is still too self-conscious about his English to show up at the skate. He doesn’t want to frustrate any of the kids by not understanding what they’re saying.

(Doesn’t want to frustrate himself by having the kids not understand _him_.)

“They wouldn’t have cared,” Sidney tells him after. “They’d just be happy you were there.”

Maybe, Geno thinks. Maybe next time.

2\. Geno is out with injury the next time, his knee so swollen just the thought of putting pressure on his leg making him wince no matter how badly he wants to be out on the ice.

Sidney finds him in the gym later. “Kids missed you out there.”

“Yeah?”

Sidney kisses his cheek, smoothes away Geno’s sweaty hair from his forehead. “I missed you too.”

Next time, Geno decides. For sure.

3\. Geno gets stuck in traffic the next year. Sidney is _not_ impressed.

4\. Geno watches the videos that PensTV keep making. His eyes trail Sidney’s form on the screen, lips twitching into a smile every time Sid laughs as a kid wobbles and then falls on the ice, just _so_ delighted. Sidney is never as happy as when he’s on the ice, but the tiny humans skating around him seems to add to his happiness. Geno has yet to see a clip of Sid where he’s not smiling, where he doesn’t look like he’s only seconds away from laughing joyously.

This is what Geno has been missing every year.

5\. The first time Geno actually makes it to the Little Penguins skate, it’s a surprise.

Sidney says, “Oh, so you have Geno’s stick? Where’s Geno? We’ll have to find him,” and the kid he’s talking to looks up, jaw dropping and eyes going wide when he sees Geno standing behind Sidney.

Geno winks at him and lifts his finger to his mouth, signalling the kid to be silent.

The kid nods fiercely.

“We’ll find Geno,” Sidney says again, “and we’ll get you sticks switched.”

Geno grins. “Steal my stick, Sid? Little bit not good.”

Sidney startles, losing his balance as he spins around to face Geno. The kids who see burst into laughter as Sidney falls flat on his ass, and Geno joins them at the look of surprised shock on his face.

It’s hilarious, and the rest of the skate is pretty good too.

(Geno shows up every year after that until he retires. Sidney is pleased.)


	53. Sid/Geno - Meeting the parents, 5 head canons, outside POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Sid/Geno meet the parents

1\. Troy _adores_ Geno. Mostly, Sidney thinks this is because of the tear Geno went on during the path to their first Cup. They didn’t actually meet before that, which was probably a good thing, because Sidney has a _type_ , and all of his boyfriends have been assholes; Geno is no exception _at all_.

(His dad will forgive Geno a lot for that Cup, Sidney thinks, but it does help that Geno is only ever on his best behaviour in front of his parents.)

2\. Trina realises exactly how much of an asshole Geno can be; it just about matches her son. “I am _not_ an asshole,” Sidney protests indignantly when she tells him this.

“You have your moments,” Trina says over the phone, barely holding back an amused laugh.

Sidney squawks and hangs up on her, which just proves her point.

3\. Sidney is drunk the first time he meets Geno’s parents. Mario and Nathalie are hosting a New Year’s Eve party, and Max and Army have been sneaking him flutes of expensive champagne ever since Sidney walked down the stairs from his room.

It goes straight to his head.

He doesn’t mean to drink so much, or at all, really—he’s conscious of still being under 21 and doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble; the Chief of Police is here—but Geno will be bringing his parents, and Sidney wants to make a good impression. Geno basically defected to come to Pittsburgh so he could play Penguins hockey, and Sid needs them to believe that it was worth it. That Geno made the right choice.

“Sid? Drunk?”

Sidney blinks wildly, trying to make out the face that is suddenly in front of him. “Geno!” He lifts his arms, making grabby hands, and Geno goes, frowning disapprovingly.

“Drunk,” he concludes decisively, even as he allows Sidney to fall against him for an uncoordinated hug.

“‘m not drunk,” Sidney says against Geno’s chest. He lifts his eyes to Geno’s face, catching sight of his full lips. Geno would be a good kisser, he thinks. He’d kiss Sidney just right.

Later, Sidney will say he didn’t attack Geno as much as surprise him, and also, “I was drunk. Very, very drunk.”

It’s just Sidney’s luck that Gonch came over with Geno’s parents to introduce them just as Sidney was trying to swallow Geno’s tongue.

(It’s Sid and Geno’s first kiss; it was pretty embarrassing for everyone involved.)

4\. The second time Sidney meets Vladimir and Natalia, he’s nursing a terrible hangover and sipping a mysterious concoction that Natalia puts together, clucking her tongue when Sidney shows up at the Gonchars’ with sunglasses on his face and an apology on his lips.

“I’m _really_ not that guy,” he tells her, and she doesn’t seem like she really believes him when Gonch dutifully translates, but she seems to like him well enough anyway.

She has to, if she’s willing to cure his hangover with the power of her weird Russian home remedy. Sidney counts it as a win.

5\. The first time the Crosbys meet the Malkins, Troy tells Vladimir the story of how he had to mail Sidney extra pairs of skates whenever his coaches would hide his to get him off the ice, and Vladimir follows it up with telling Troy about the time Geno got a friend to cut off his cast so he could play on his broken foot.

They get along famously.


	54. Sid/Geno - fluff, chirping, lateness, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> (Your wiki gave me an idea.) Headcanons on Geno being late and Sid chirping him for it?

1\. Geno is never on time for anything; sometimes, it feels as if Sidney has spent his whole life waiting for Geno—waiting for him to come to Pittsburgh, waiting for him to learn English, waiting for him to grow up and be ready to settle down, one day. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

2\. Geno is even late for his first game, the beginning of his season derailed by a dislocated shoulder. “Ready?” he asks Sidney on the night he’s finally making his debut.

Sidney grins at him. ‘Ready’, is one of the few words Geno knows in English. “Are you?” he teases, because Sidney has been ready to share the ice with him since Geno fist stepped foot in Pittsburgh a month prior.

Geno looks at him intently. There’s a small smirk on his face, still smug from suckering Sidney into letting him go out last onto the ice.

Three years Super League Sidney’s _ass_.

“Sid,” Geno says slowly, and makes a come here gesture with his gloved hand. Sidney goes. He lets Geno lift his fist, watching silently as Geno leans in to knock their helmets together and then bumping his fist with Sidney’s. “Ready now,” he says decisively.

Sidney smiles. He supposes they are.

3\. Sidney is not really surprised when Geno starts getting a reputation for being habitually late. He _is_ surprised when he becomes something like Geno’s keeper. Sidney has no idea why everyone seems to believe Sidney has even a chance in hell of corralling Geno into even some semblance of punctuality.

“You’re literally the only one he’ll be on time for,” Tanger says.

Sidney rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything to deny it.

(He also doesn’t say that he can only get Geno to be somewhat on time because Sidney tells him to meet one hour before everyone else.

He can’t have it getting back to Geno.)

4\. Dan says, “Is everybody here? Can we start? Where’s Evgeni, anyone got visual on this guy yet?”

Sidney checks his watch. The meeting was supposed to have started fourteen minutes ago; Geno probably won’t be there for another ten. He tells Dan as much.

Dan sighs, resigned. “Evgeni, good to see you,” he says sarcastically when Geno finally ambles into the room.

Geno grins, smug. “Yes, is good to see me,” he agrees, and Sidney rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him.

“You’re late,” he snaps at him, annoyed. The guys shuffle in their seats around them. A couple of rows behind him, Sidney can hear Duper say, “Uh oh. Mom and Dad are fighting.”

“Not so late,” Geno tries, smiling winningly at Sidney.

“Late enough to stay behind to practice face-offs with me.”

Geno loses his smile.

(When it’s been forty minutes since practice ended and Sidney’s wrist is burning from all the face-offs he’s drawn, Geno finally loses his patience after losing another draw.

He throws his stick on the ice, closes the gap between them and wraps his arms around Sidney, holding him tight enough that Sidney can’t move. “Mercy!” he begs. “No more. I’m sorry, Sid.” He nuzzles his face into Sidney’s sweaty neck.

(Sidney isn’t smiling at all. He’s not.)

“You do the crime, you do the time,” Sidney recites, holding back a giggle when Geno starts spinning them in slow, shaky circles. “You know our deal; if you’re late, we stay behind for extra practice.”

Geno nods agreeably. “Finished now, though?” he asks hopefully. He presses a sweet kiss to Sidney’s cheek, working his way down until he reaches the corner of his mouth.

Sidney finally relents, turning his head so Geno can kiss him proper. “Yeah,” he says. “We’re done now.”

5\. Geno is actually on time for their wedding.

(Sidney is not.)


	55. Sid/Geno - Sexual exploration, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Can you write about sid and geno trying out new things in the bedroom? :)))

1\. He’s not gonna lie, but when they first got together, Evgeni had thought that sex with Sidney would be mostly vanilla. _Great_ , but vanilla.

2\. (It is not. Like, at all.)

3\. Sidney sits in Evgeni’s lap and says, “Tell me what you want. Anything you want, we’ll try it.”

Evgeni wants to try _everything_.

4\. Evgeni’s safe word is _lazy_.

5\. Sidney keeps an honest to god journal about stuff they try out in bed. He’ll review it, make notes, and then rate the experience according to how successful he thinks it went. The journal has a list of Sidney’s dos and don’ts, of _Evgeni’s_ dos and don’ts, and Evgeni would maybe think it was weird to keep a sex journal except it is _the best thing ever_.

Who needs porn when there is Sidney’s voice in his ear, giving him replays of their own sex life. “Remember the time with the beads?” Sidney asks him. “Remember the time in St. Louis,” he says, and Evgeni nearly faints from how fast his blood rushes south because _St. Louis_. “Remember the time with the paddle? When you tied me up?”

Evgeni doesn’t ever have to worry about forgetting, because there is always Sidney’s journal to remind them.


	56. Sid/Geno - Amusement park, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lifecolouredpurple asked:  
> sid/geno going to the amusement park or the dentist please? :D

1\. Geno _loves_ amusement parks.

2\. Sidney likes them well enough. Mostly he loves the way Geno lights up at all the excitement. And the way he’ll clutch at Sidney’s hand when they go on the bigger rollercoasters.

3\. (Geno loves speed, but he has a fear of heights. Not that he’d ever admit to it.)

4\. Every time they go to an amusement park, Sidney walks away with the biggest, most ridiculous stuffed toy that Geno can find. He’ll play whatever game he needs to, for however long it takes, and spend all the money it takes.

(It’s kind of embarrassing, but Sid has a room in the house just for all the toys Geno has won him over the years. Whatever. The kids love it whenever they’re babysitting.)

5\. Sidney’s favourite attraction is the haunted house. It’s possible that they accidentally contributed to the legend of the last haunted house they’d been in, but really, when Geno had bullied him into a dark, secluded corner, given him a filthy grin and dropped to his knees, Sidney really wasn’t about to say no.

(He maybe could have muffled his moans a little better, though.)


	57. Bryan Rust/Tom Kuhnackl - Hurt/Comfort, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe asked:  
> rusty/junior, junior taking care of rusty while he's out with the injury :'(

1\. Rusty goes crashing into the goalie, slams into the left post, and holds back a scream at the way his arms twists and the muscles in his shoulder goes painfully taut.

He knows even before he leaves the ice that he’ll be out for a while.

2\. Junior finds him later in the trainer’s room. “Brought you back a win,” he says when he walks into the room, smile dimming a little when he sees the sling around Rusty’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Rusty asks. He reaches for Junior with his free hand, and Junior goes easily, careful as he gathers him into a gentle—so gentle—hug.

“Yeah.”

3\. The first home game Rusty can’t go to because he’s just had his PT and is doped up on painkillers, Junior bundles him up in a blanket, situates him on the couch and makes sure the tv is tuned into the right channel..

“Watch the game, okay? I’ll score a goal for you.”

4\. Junior doesn’t get him a goal, but he does come home with a win.

(Celebratory blowjobs are _fantastic_ even when doped up on painkillers.)

5\. The worst part of being injured is not being able to play, but the uselessness he feels in general is pretty crappy too. It’s a good thing then, that Junior is always there to make it better.

Sidney says, “Hey, do you mind getting the peanut butter? I just gotta step out for a sec.” He’s gone before Rusty even has time to blink, and it’s such a stupid, little thing, but he really doesn’t want to let his captain down even for this.

Possibly, it’s his painkillers speaking, but.

Junior bumps into him deliberately, moving him to the side carefully. “Here,” he says, reaching for the cabinet with the peanut butter before Rusty can get a chance to put his shoulder through the absolute torture it would be to lift even his healthy arm.

He’s so short, Rusty would have to stand on his toes just to reach.

(He hates Geno a little for always messing around and placing the jar on the top shelf when Sidney isn’t looking, so he can stare at Sid’s ass when he has to stretch to grab it.)

Junior swipes the jar off the shelf and presses the jar into Rusty’s hand, winking at him conspiratorially.

“Oh, thanks,” Sidney says as he steps back into the room, grabbing the jar from Rusty’s hand with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Rusty says, and when his eyes meet Junior’s over Sidney’s shoulder, Rusty mouths, _Thank you_.

Junior grins at him.


	58. Sid/Geno + Sophia Crosby - Kid!fic, friends to lovers, team as family, implied mpreg, 5 head canons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been ages since I’ve written anything for the Sophia Crosby verse, so have 5 headcanons about Sophia + Sid/Geno!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> SidGeno babies/children? Or anything with phil/hags if you want?! Whichever 😊

1\. Sidney is her daddy, her birth parent, and the one who gave Sophia her name. He’s also a total pushover; Geno is the disciplinarian.

(This is a system that works well for them. Sid gets to be the good guy and the one who kisses it better, and by the time Geno has gone home for the night and come back again, Sophia has already forgotten to be angry with her uncle Geno for being a big meanie.)

2\. Sophia was three when they found out she’s allergic to strawberries. She doesn’t remember it, but knows it had been bad by the way Daddy always goes deathly pale at the mention of it, of how he whispers, “I was so scared, baby.”

It’s the only time Uncle Geno cuts his summer short and the first time he made the trip to Cole Harbour.

3\. Sophia grows up multilingual. She’s fluent in English, French, and Russian, can hold a decent conversation in Finnish, is passable in Swedish, and can say, “Your mother is a whore and your father a sheep-fucker,” in German, though she is _never_ to tell Daddy about the last one; “He may actually kill me,” Junior says, and Sophia doesn’t know what a whore or a sheep-fucker actually is, but Junior looks so worried she just nods and smiles her agreement—and then laughs when Shearsy rolls his eyes at them, slaps Junior upside the head and says, “You’re an idiot.”

4\. When she is seven, Uncle Geno becomes Dad, and Sophia becomes Sophia Crosby-Malkin. She kinda thinks it’s weird that Daddy’s name is Crosby and her dad’s name is Malkin, and that they’ve all got different last names, but then two years later the triplets are born and they become Crosby-Malkins too.

(Uncle Sanja says Crosby-Malkins are way better than regular Crosbys and Malkins. Claude agrees: “I still can’t believe Croz gave birth to you; you’re so much cooler than him. Like way cooler.” He says it in French just to spite Daddy and because he _knows_ he can understand him.

Daddy and Claude’s friendship is _so weird_.)

5\. When Sophia is fourteen, she gets her heart broken for the first time. “Why doesn’t she love me back?” she sobs into Sidney’s shoulder, and she misses the sad look he sends Zhenya and the way Zhenya’s hands clench into fists, because Lola is just a teenager and he can’t actually make her fall in love with his daughter.

He still wants to punch something, though. Duper’s face, maybe—he’s obviously failed as a parent if he’s raised a child who can’t recognise the fucking _marvel_ Sophia is.

“We can’t help the way other people feel, baby,” Sidney says. He’s stroking a gentle hand through Sophia’s hair, fingers snagging on her thick curls. “You’ll fall in love again. You’ll fall in love with someone else, with _lots_ of someone elses. I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with someone else! I love Lola; she’s my soul mate, like you and Dad.”

“Sofka,” Zhenya says helplessly. He doesn’t know how to fix this. It’s not a bruise he can put a bandaid on and kiss it better.

“It hurts, Dad. Why does it hurts so much?” Sophia’s sobbing somehow gets worse, huge hulking cries wrecking her whole body. She’s clutching at Sidney, her misery so palpable it’s as if she’ll never find cause to be happy again.

Zhenya hates it, hates this feeling of utter uselessness. “It’ll get better, Sofka,” he says, because it’s all he _can_ say. “I promise. It’ll get better.”

Sophia shakes her head, swallows on a sob and presses closer to Sidney. She doesn’t believe him.

(Until she does.)


	59. Sid/Geno - Different teams AU, rivals to lovers, light angst, 5 head canons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flyers!Sid and Penguins!Geno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> sid/geno - secret relationship because they're on different teams. i want some angst~~ tbh

1\. When the 2001-2002 Penguins traded their backup goalie and a first-round pick to the Philadelphia Flyers for a sorely-needed defensemen and a left winger they could move up and down the lineup, everyone agreed that the Penguins won the trade. Especially when they began the next season as newly minted Stanley Cup champions.

2\. (The pick they traded away was the Penguins’ 2005 first-round pick.)

3\. The Philadelphia Flyers draft Sidney Crosby with the pick they’d acquired from the Pittsburgh Penguins in a trade made three years before. The trade is wildly considered as grand larceny on part of the Flyers. The Flyers smugly concur with this.

4\. When Evgeni Malkin plays his first career game against the Flyers, Sidney has been in the league for a year already, and is predisposed to hate any and all Penguins. To say the two do not get along is something of an understatement.

Sidney spends more time in the box than on the ice that night, and Malkin ends up getting a game misconduct, leaving the ice with a glare at Sid, mean and dark, head held high under the assault of 20,000 Flyers fans jeering his name as he walks through the tunnel.

Sidney grins back at him from the box, all teeth, and blows him a kiss.

(The image will headline most newspapers the next day.

Before that, though, in a rarely-used equipment room inside Wells Fargo Center, Sidney ends up having the best (the so-far _only_ ) hate sex he’s ever had.

It’s not the last time.)

5\. The thing is, Sidney doesn’t actually _like_ Malkin. Until he does.

Sid freaks the fuck out.

It’s been almost five years since he first started his semi-regular one-night stand with Malkin, two since he stopped getting together with any of his other regular hookups, and seven months since the first time Sidney found himself actually looking forward to the next time he’d get a chance to get Malkin on his own. Not just a convenient fuck anymore, not even the rough, sometime painful sex they first engaged in those first couple of years—all rage and pent-up emotion and wanting to _hurt_ and be hurt—that Sidney needed back then.

Now there’s large hands holding his hips steady, hips moving gently and a low voice crooning something sweet-sounding in Russian that Sidney will _never_ try to find out what means because that—

Sidney can’t keep doing this.

(Not when he wants more. Not when they’re a secret, not when they’re miles apart and four or five meetings throughout the course of a year is far too inadequate. Could never come close to how much he wants to—)

“We should stop. This,” Sidney says. Geno—and he’s Geno now; hasn’t been Malkin for years, _god—_ pauses in the middle of putting on his jeans. He looks at Sidney for a long, long moment. Sidney feels so exposed, bare in a way getting naked for Geno has never made him feel before. He wishes he could read the look on Geno’s face, but he’s never been able to.

Sidney is the one with all the tells. Sidney is the one Geno can read like a book, effortless. One he knows the ending of.

It’s beyond terrifying.

Geno hums. “Okay,” he says simply. He finishes getting dressed, reaches for his wallet and keys, and then takes three easy steps over to Sidney’s bed, leaning over to kiss Sidney, slow and languid. Geno pulls back, reaching out one hand to stroke his knuckles down Sidney’s cheek, so soft the touch feels barely there at all. “Goodbye, Sidney Crosby,” Geno says, and his hand falls away as he turns to leave.

Sidney watches him go.

He says nothing.


	60. Sid/Geno - Hugs, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dangerouslyaddictivethings asked:  
> Hei! Can I pleasd request another headcanon for Sid and Geno? The hug and Geno handing Sid the golden stick sinve 'he's a special someone'? God bless your sweet sweet soul.

I did something similar to this earlier, so I’m just straight up gonna write 5 times that Sid and Geno hugged!

1\. Sidney hugs Evgeni for the first time when they’re still 18 and 19. They’re officially meeting for the first time, and Evgeni has just shook hands with Mario Lemieux when suddenly a boy who looks a lot like Sidney Crosby is reaching for his hand and then drawing him in for a hug, rapid-fire English that Evgeni has no hope of understanding filling his ear. _Oh,_ Evgeni thinks. It actually _is_ Sidney Crosby.

Evgeni is so bone-weary with exhaustion he closes his arms around Sidney’s waist and lets Sidney hold him for a few seconds too long. There’s hands moving up and down his back, sure and steady, and Sidney’s voice crooning in his ear is gentle. Evgeni could probably fall asleep right there and then, he’s so comfortable.

It’s unexpected, because he hasn’t been comfortable since his former team took his passport and said, “You’re Russian, Zhenya. You’re place is here.”

2\. Evgeni scores a goal on _Martin Brodeur_ and Sidney jumps into his arms in pure joy. Evgeni is soaring. His veins are thrumming with want, with greed for more hockey, more goals, more Sidney.

Sidney laughs, and the sound is sweeter than even the crowd roaring their approval.

3\. Sidney whispers, “I’m never gonna get better, am I? I’m never gonna play hockey again.”

Evgeni shakes his head fiercely and gathers Sidney into his arms, careful, so careful. “You are,” he promises. “Will skate again, Sid.” He can’t know for sure, and Sidney has been concussed for so long already, but Evgeni believes.

4\. They win they Cup _again._ Evgeni laughs and laughs, delirious with joy and keeps an arm around Sidney’s shoulder, tugging him into long hugs in even intervals because the _won the Cup!!!_ and so many people said they wouldn’t again.

“We did it, Geno,” Sidney keeps saying, breathless. “We did it!”

Evgeni hugs him again.

5\. Evgeni says, “Hey! Give me a hug,” and smiles when Sidney laughs at him sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Sidney says, grinning. He goes in for a one-armed embrace, one hand still clutching the gold-plated stick Evgeni had gifted him. Well, it was a gift from the whole team but Evgeni had been given the task of actually giving it to him, which is obviously the important part.

“Should make up to me.”

“Oh?” Sidney says. He tilts his head, interested.

Evgeni opens his mouth, but Flower beats him to it: “Fucking save it for home,” he tells them, which is probably just as well. Without a distraction, Sid and Evgeni are liable to let the flirting descend into more physical PDA, and while Evgeni wouldn’t mind, he’d have to fine himself _and_ Sid.

And well. Evgeni would really like to keep Sidney in a good mood.

(He does sneak in another hug, though, before Tanger tows Sid away for his speech. But that’s fine. Evgeni can wait.)


	61. Sid/Geno - Retirement, established relationship, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> if youre still doing prompts? what do they do when theyre retired?

1\. Geno is 36 years old, is in the last year of his contract, when he says, “Not so fast anymore. Knees hurt all the time.”

Sid glances at him from where he’s fixing them breakfast. He snorts. “ _Everything_ hurts all the time,” he says, and clamps down hard on the whimper that wants to escape at the fear that Geno really is done, that he’ll finish out the season and then Sidney has to play on without him for another three years.

“Mhm,” Geno hums thoughtfully. He reaches for Sid’s hand, pulls him to him and busses a kiss against his cheek. “Hands still good, though,” he says.

Sidney smiles at him. “Yeah,” he agrees.

2\. Geno signs a three-year contract that summer.

3\. Sidney is 37 when he takes the hit to his head that ends his career. He has 17 games left on the season and one more year on his contract. They retire his number.

4\. “I’m sorry,” Sidney says one night. His head is resting on Geno’s chest, eyes closed in pleasure at the feel of Geno’s gentle fingers stroking through his hair. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go out together, that you have to play this year without me.”

Geno makes a wounded sound, deep in his throat. “You _here_ , Sid. Right here. When I see the hit, I think…” He trails off, breathing in a ragged, shaky breath. “You here,” he repeats. _You’re alive_ , he doesn’t say, doesn’t need to with Sidney’s chest moving up and down, breathing _in, in, in_ and _out, out, out_.

5\. They’ve come full circle. Sidney begins the first season of his career without Geno; Geno finishes his last without Sid.

This is what they do when Geno joins Sidney in retirement: they get married.

(Finally.)


	62. Sid/Geno - Non-hockey au, Disney world, first meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Anonymous asked:  
> sid/g at disney world!

1\. If Geno is totally honest, he falls in love with Sid’s ass before the rest of him.

2\. (To be fair, it’s huge. It’s pretty much all anyone sees when Sid is bent over like that, the white leggings of his costume stretched so taut over his skin it’s _obscene_ and not at all something that should be casually displayed in the middle of a square in Disney World.)

3\. Sidney is the pretties fake prince Geno has ever seen.

4\. “Back again,” Sidney says warmly when Geno and a bunch of guys come trickling inside the park for what is possibly the fourth day in a row. Evgeni is only a little embarrassed by the fact that he knows Sidney’s name (and schedule) and doesn’t care at all that he’s quickly blowing through his allowance on some guy he’s probably never gonna get the chance to go anywhere with (much less into his pants. _God,_ Geno hopes Sidney is a legal adult).

“Yeah,” Geno says, and is grateful that the sunburn on his face is hiding his blush. His friends snicker into their hands behind him. Evgeni is going to kill them.

Sidney doesn’t spare them a glance though, eyes on Geno only. “I’m glad,” he says, and that’s. Well.

5\. Sidney is 19. Thank fuck.


	63. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, fluff, 1000 points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Sid/Geno- 1000 points (do you write anything that isn't sid/geno? I don't want to prompt a pairing you're uncomfortable with)

1\. By the time he’s reached 999, he just wants it to be done and over with. Scratch that, Sid was ready for the hype to be over already at point 990.

2\. He gets it though, at home, with his parents in the stands. An assist off Kuni’s goal with Flower in the net behind him and Tanger on the ice right there, and when he skates to the bench, Geno croons at him, “So sweet to wait for me, Sid. So good for me.”

3\. The look in his eyes promises good things for Sidney to come.

4\. They give him a gold stick to commemorate this achievement, and Sid was expecting it, but it’s still pretty awesome. The stick is plated _gold._ (It’s possible he goes a little misty eyed when they tell him that the stick rack is made from the roof of the Mellon arena. It just feels full circle, with Kuni and Tanger and Flower and Geno there. Only Duper is missing.)

5\. He hugs them, gets to Flower, hugs him too and then is distracted by the jersey in Kuni’s hands when he hears Geno’s indignant squack. “Hey! Give me a hug.” The guys laugh around them even as Geno is putting his arms around Sid, but the laughs turn into catcalls when Sidney pushes up onto his toes, leaning in close to press a kiss to the corner of Geno’s mouth. “Love you.”

Geno grins at him, pleased. 


	64. Conor Sheary/Jordan Sheary/Tom Kuhnackl - Getting together, NSFW, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> svechkin asked:  
> conor/junior(/jordan) getting together

1\. Conor would just like everyone to know that, for the record, Junior is the one who came onto him.

2\. Jordan is the one who puts the idea in his head though. “Just look at him,” she says, all breathless and appreciative. “Isn’t he hot? Like, _really_ hot.” Conor would maybe be insulted if he wasn’t so busy nodding his head in agreement.

3\. Junior catches him looking, sometimes. He never seems to mind. He’ll smile and wink once he catches Conor’s gaze, maybe throw in a pointed wiggle of his brows for good measure. Conor blushes a bright red, the ghost of Jordan’s voice whispering in his ear; “He’d look so good with us, babe, all big and strong. He’d fuck you so good, just the way you like it. Just the way _I_ like it.”

4\. Conor seriously loves his girlfriend so fucking much.

5\. This is how they get together: Junior walks up to them at some party Pooh is throwing, casual as anything when he asks, “You guys want to fuck?”

Conor blinks and Jordan breathes out, “ _Yes_.”

“What do you say, Shears?” Junior asks, grinning at him. “I’ve seen you looking; I think we both know you like what you see.”

“He does,” Jordan answers for him, because Conor seems to have temporarily lost his voice and then _oh,_ Junior is kissing him right there. No one seems to mind.

Jordan _loves_ it.

Conor swallows, eyes fluttering open when Junior pulls away. He doesn’t even remember closing them. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, yeah.”


	65. Sid/Geno - NSFW, smut, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> nsfw hcs for s&g 👀?

1\. Evgeni will go to his grave before admitting that he was a virgin before Sidney got his hands on him, just 17 years old, groaning into his fist to keep quiet in a bathroom stall inside a hockey arena in Helsinki, Sidney on his knees before him; he’s swallowing Evgeni’s cock as if it’s a goddamn sport, as if it’s _nothing_ , as if he’s done it hundreds of times before.

2\. This is what Evgeni learns inside that stall: Sidney Crosby does not have a gag reflex. Sidney Crosby is _filthy_.

3\. Evgeni has done a whole lot more by the time Russia is beaten out of the tournament while Sidney advances to the final. Evgeni hates losing, but it’s hard to stay angry when he’s watching Sidney play over a shitty stream from home, remembering the way Sidney moaned, loud and unapologetic, when Evgeni moved inside of him. Remembers the way Sidney’s lips had been so, so red, bruised and slick with spit and come both and Evgeni is jerking off right there, remembering Sidney, Sidney, _Sidney_.

4\. (The memory of Sidney–naked, on his knees, eyes closed, mouth open–lasts him a long, long time.)

5\. By the time Sidney gets his hands on him a second time, Evgeni is a whole lot more experienced. He’s fucked around enough to learn what he likes, what he doesn’t, and to realise that Sidney is still so very filthy, willing to try at least anything once and open-minded about anything Evgeni brings up.

+1. It’s really unfortunate that Tanger walks in on them that one time, staring, mouth gaping and eyes impossibly wide, at the high heels on Sidney’s feet, the stockings clinging to his legs and the delicate, lace panties that have been haphazardly rolled down Sidney’s hips, hugging the skin of his thighs lovingly–and Geno’s cock, buried in Sidney’s ass.

+2. Tanger does not speak to them for a whole week straight. Evgeni does not have the heart to tell him that what he saw is about as vanilla as they go.


	66. Sid/Geno - Day off, Established relationship, fluff, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Headcanon meme: Sid/Geno, day off - blueorangescribble

1\. Things that Sidney schedules for days off: Errands; sending Geno on grocery runs, radio interviews, phone calls with his agent, his parents, paying bills, and sex.

2\. The guys like to tease them about their scheduled sex, but Sidney never thinks of it as a chore and it never feels anything but amazing when Geno sinks to his knees before him.

3\. Geno liked to cook on off days. He’s a decent cook, Sid thinks. At least it’s edible now.

4\. Geno also likes to cuddle on off days. He’ll bully Sidney onto the couch and wrap around him until Sid goes soft and pliant in his arms, and they lie there on the coach for long minutes, just talking softly, whispering dreams and hopes into each others ears.

5\. Sid and Geno babysit a lot on their off days, usually for Estelle and Scarlett, or Alex. Sometimes all three. “Should pay us, is hard work,” Geno always jokes when the guys come to pick up the kids, and Tanger will laugh at him, smooth back the hair of a half-sleeping Alex and say, “we’ll return the favour later, eh?”

+1. It takes a couple of years, but then they do.


	67. Sid/Geno + Dupuis family - Established relationship, fluff, animals, light angst, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kimmiesue13 asked:  
> For the 5 headcanons: Sid/Geno, animals

1\. Geno loves all animals indiscriminately. Dogs, cats, tigers, whale sharks…it’s all good. The bigger and more dangerous, the better, even.

2\. Sid likes animals too. His problem has never been not liking animals.

3\. Everyone jokes about how Sid doesn’t visit the Dupuis anymore because of the black cat. In truth, Sid _likes_ the cat. She’s beautiful and small and the cutest thing he’s ever seen, but she is a _black cat_ and that is obviously worth so much bad luck and Sid doesn't understand why nobody else sees that. He wants to visit, he does, but. 

4\. Better safe than sorry.

5\. Everyone jokes about how Sid doesn’t visit the Dupuis anymore because of the black cat, but Geno is the only one who doesn’t make light of it. He says, “Ok, Sid,” and calls Duper to invite his family over for a barbecue because Sidney _misses_ him, but he can’t just go visit like he wants to and he doesn’t want to inconvenience Duper by having to drag him away from his kids or have Duper bundle them all together and make the drive to Sid’s house. That’s probably more hassle than Duper needs just for Sidney’s sake.

+1. Geno has no such reservations.

+2. When Lola sits on his lap and tells him about something the cat did and how it was just, “Soooooo cute, Uncle Sid!”, Sidney smiles at her, a little wistful, a little regretful, and answers, “I’ll bet.”

+3. Across the room, Geno smiles at him.


	68. Sid/Geno - Non-hockey au, college, first meeting, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raindropcastle asked:  
> Hazel!! Are you still doing prompts?! If so: sid/geno (obviously haha) with outgoing hipster!g and shy!sid meeting in college/cafe/library/bookstore! Lollll

1\. Sid and Geno meet in the school library when Sid turns around in his seat to snap at the guy behind him. “ _What_ are you even eating? How are you chewing so loudly?” Normally, Sid would _never_ , but it’s been going on 20 minutes already and he has an exam tomorrow and the noise is just _so much_.

The guy freezes in place, mouth around a handful of tortilla chips, and stares at Sidney with wide, brown eyes. Sidney blushes.

2\. It is _not_ love at first sight.

3\. “What your name?” the guy asks, getting up from his seat and taking the one across from Sidney. He smiles, curious and maybe a little amused, as if Sid is some interesting specimen for him to study. Sid decides he doesn’t like him. _Or_ the big stupid hipster glasses hanging off his nose.

4\. Sid does give his name, because the guy asked and it’s the polite thing to do, but he leaves soon after, gathering his stuff together and excusing himself even if it was the other guy who’d interrupted _him_. He has an exam to get ready for and he can’t afford distractions. 

“I’m Evgeni,” the guy calls after him as Sid is walking away, and Sid waves a hand in acknowledgement, already thinking about the pages upon pages he still has left to read.

5\. When his exam is over, Tanger decides they need to celebrate. “We’ll go to my friend’s party. He and his roommate are hosting. It’ll be good,” he says before Sidney can demure. “You’ll like my friend Geno.”

(+1. It is maybe love on second sight,)


	69. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, fluff, 5 head canons, PDA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> winds-wanderer asked:  
> Sid/Geno -- level of PDA. (Might be a softball request here but...)

1\. This is what Marc-André tells every new player: “We apologise about the PDA in advance. Like, as a group.” He’s always met with slightly baffled looks, but Marc-André just serenely smiles back. They’ll get what he means sooner rather than later.

2\. As Tanger will tell anyone willing to listen, Sid is the worst of the two. Sid is the one who’ll hug Geno to him and put his hands in Geno’s pocket, saying, “They’re just the right size,” and smirk smugly. Sid is the one who presses kisses to Geno’s mouth, his neck, his temple, any part of Geno that he can reach. Sid is the one who says, “You wanna?” while the guys holler at them to get a fucking room and Geno makes a sound like he’s died and gone to heaven. So yeah. Sid is definitely the worst.

3\. (No one ever believes this until they’ve experienced it themselves.)

4\. Sid and Geno will make out in the locker room to avoid post-game questions. It works maybe one third of the time and Jen always yells at them for it. The Trib guys have almost as much video of Sid and Geno kissing as they do actual interviews.

5\. Tanger says Sid is the worst, but that’s only because he doesn’t speak Russian and can’t understand the words that Zhenya regularly croons into Sidney’s ear. Gonch has heard more about the virtue of Sidney Crosby than he ever needed to know. The words that regularly drip off Zhenya’s tongue are so sweet and sugary, Gonch can’t believe they’re actual grown men sometimes.

+1. No one can deny that Sid and Geno love each other, though, and in the end, the complaints about the PDA are just small grumbles, teasing more than actual annoyance.

+2. That doesn’t stop Marc-André from throwing a bucket of ice cold water at them sometimes. Just when they especially need to cool off.


	70. Sid/Geno - Two-headed monster, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dangerouslyaddictivethings asked:  
> For the headcanons 2-headed monster for obvious reasons

1\. Bob Errey is the one who starts calling them the two-headed monster.

2\. Geno likes it (because of course), and Sid wrinkles his nose. “Well,” he says. He’s been called worse and he supposes it’s not the worst nickname he’s had. It’s even meant as a compliment.

3\. It becomes a thing. Media picks up on it, reporters, broadcasters. _The Two-Headed Monster Heading to Montreal_ one newspaper proclaims. It’s in French, and Flower and Duper take great delight in dangling the headline in front of Sid and Geno, crooning about the growth of their legend. 

4\. Sid was sceptical at first, but the name grows on him. It comes to mean something. Someone says “The two-headed monster” in NHL circles and everyone _knows_ who they’re talking about. No names needed. Sid draws strength from it. They’re the two-headed monster, him and Geno; Sid plays better with Geno than without him.

5\. Phil comes to Pittsburgh and people start murmuring about the three-headed monster. The big three. Sid–wrinkles his nose.

Geno laughs at him. “You don’t like?” he asks, coy.

Sidney shrugs, but goes willingly when Geno pulls him into his arms. He wraps his arms around Geno’s neck, drawing him down for a sweet kiss. “I don’t know,” he mutters against Geno’s mouth. “I kinda liked when it was just you and me.

Geno smiles at him, all soft fondness. He brushes a stray lock of hair away from Sid’s forehead. “Is still me and you,” he says, and–

Well. Obviously.


	71. Sid/Geno - Grocery shopping, 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> trippypeas asked:  
> Sid and Geno/ grocery shopping

1\. Sid makes list. Long ones, meticulous and colour coded. He plans them out throughout the week, carefully checking for what they have, what they need, and sometimes, what he wants.

2\. 80% of the time, what he wants is Reese’s. Sid only indulges about 20% of the time. Just to keep his hidden stash up to date.

3\. Sidney goes grocery shopping with Geno a few times before deciding they should never shop together again. Mostly because Geno keeps putting bar after bar of Reese’s into the cart and Sidney is finding it difficult to remember why that’s a bad idea when Geno kisses him, pleased, every time Sid doesn’t remove a new bar from the cart.

4\. (Sidney maybe gains a couple of pounds. It goes straight to his ass; people notice and Geno _loves_ it.)

5\. Sid makes lists, but it’s Geno who goes shopping most of the time. Sid has so much to do, so many people demanding his time that Geno finds it easier to press a soothing kiss to his temple, pluck the (too long) list out of his hand and say, “I go. Pick up everything on the list, promise.” Sidney smiles at him so gratefully that Geno doesn’t mind at all, even if he gets asked for autographs more often than not.

+1. Sometimes, about 20% of the time, Sid will have written _Reese’s_ at the bottom of the list. Geno buys it every time he’s picking up groceries and adds it to Sid’s ‘hidden stash’.

+2. Sid never comments on how his stash seems to be growing.


	72. Sid/Geno - The Corey and Topanga AU (Kindergarten Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve been in love since kindergarten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord-tazer-senpai: Someone talk sid/geno au to me

All right. I’m dying for a Cory and Topanga Sid/Geno romance. You know, the kind where they’ve been growing up together (because of reasons) and when Sid and his family have to move back to Canada (because of reasons) Geno shows up three months later and just refuses to leave.

“Sid is the love of my life,” he says fiercely, his Russian slower than usual to make sure Troy and Trina understand.

He has his arms wound tight around Sidney, refusing to let him go as he says, “I know we’re young, and you might think sixteen and fifteen is _too_ young, but I already know Sid is the person I am going to marry. So you can send me back to Russia, I don’t care. I’ll just come back, again and again, until you understand that you can’t keep us apart.”

Sidney is too emotional to speak, so overcome with happiness at finally getting to see Geno in person again that all he can do is nod into Geno’s embrace, afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go.

Troy and Trina try to send Geno back again, because there’s all kinds of legalities involved here and Vladimir and Natalia would very much like their son back home, but Sid and Geno make so much trouble and so much noise that finally, Vladimir gives in and asks if there isn’t some way for Geno to remain with the Crosbys.

Natalia is hesitant, and Troy too (he does _not_ care for how close the two of them are. They are so, so young), but Trina agrees with Vladimir, can already tell that shipping Geno back to Russia will see Sidney following.

They won’t stand to be apart, and she’d rather they be safe than on the run.

(Not even the threat of losing hockey had been enough to dissuade them. This is how she knows it’s true love.)

Oh man! Can you imagine? Sid and Geno tearing it up in the junior leagues, never far from each other and making it so abundantly clear that they are a package deal that NHL teams are already foaming at the mouth, imagining the two on their rosters.

(The closer they get to Geno’s draft year, they get increasingly frequent calls from Ovi, complaining about how the two of them are stealing his thunder. “You had to fall in love with a Canadian, didn’t you? With _Sidney Crosby_.”

Geno is a lot smug about that. He knows if Sanja had been gay, he’d gone for Sidney with his usual bulldogged determination. Sidney is perfect, after all, and while Geno knows there’s no way Sidney would ever accept Sanja over him (their love is true), he’d still enjoy having a legitimate reason to punch Sanja in the face. Now, Sidney won’t let him.)

The year that Geno is drafted to the Penguins will be the first time Sid and Geno are apart since they met each other in a playground in Magnitogorsk at three and four, and they both dread it, unsure of what it will be like, because this isn’t like before. Sidney can’t follow Geno to Pittsburgh.

But then the lockout happens and they both breathe out a sigh of relief. Geno is disappointed he won’t get to play NHL hockey, but he gets to be with Sidney and that is far more important. He signs a one-year deal with a CHL team to be close to Sidney, and it seems like no time at all before the year is over (Geno tore it up, naturally) and July and the draft lottery comes around.

The second Pittsburgh is granted the first pick, people start complaining about the lottery being rigged and throw out all sorts of conspiracy theories.

Sid and Geno are too busy celebrating (by making out, _Oh my God! Will you stop already?_ Taylor complains) to pay much attention.

And when the _actual_ draft comes around, there is no doubt that Sidney will go first. The Sidney Crosby sweepstakes, they call it.

“What will you do to celebrate?” one reporter asks, and it’s Geno, kissing Sidney’s cheek before saying, “we get married next month!”, because all they’ve been waiting for since they were ten and nine and Sidney proposed to Geno and Geno accepted and Denis officiated their then-wedding with all the neighbourhood kids acting as witnesses, is for Sidney to turn eighteen so they can make their marriage a reality.

People are mostly not surprised anymore that they are so committed to each other, but their engagement lifts some brows and Troy still thinks they’re too young, but Sidney will be eighteen in just a few days so there is not much he can do.

But he can refuse to pay in the hopes that it’ll make them think twice before going through with it, which is how Sid and Geno end up being married in the backyard of Mario Lemieux’s home in Pittsburgh, because Mario, more than any other ‘adult’ recognises that Sid and Geno will do this with or without help, and people helped him when he was young and impatient and sometimes foolish. This is him paying it forward.

And Sid and Geno worry a little about where they are going to live, because they are broke until various endorsement deals kick in and they sign their entry level contracts, and then suddenly there is no need to worry about where they are going to live or how they’re going to afford living costs and such, because it becomes a non issue entirely when Mario offers up his own home to them a second time, this time to stay.

So Sid and Geno live with their boss and their boss’ family, and maybe that’s a little weird, because they’re young and they’re married, but people get used to it and then no one cares because they win a Cup a few years later even if they _still_ live with the Lemiuexs.

Finally, it’s Troy who says, “I think it’s time for you to get your own place, make your own home.”

Sidney is so surprised, he puts in a bid for a piece of land close to the Lemiuexs where they can build their own home, because Troy has always loved Geno, Sidney’s friend and teammate, but has struggled somewhat with Geno, Sidney’s husband.

There are hardships and struggles and blowout fights, but mostly they are happy. There is hockey and wins and losses and Sid and Geno, always.

(And a few years after their Cup win, when they have yet to win another, there is hockey and wins and losses and Sid and Geno, and one baby and then two babies.

And then, finally, finally, there is a Cup baby too.)


	73. Sid/Geno + Alex Ovechkin - Pre-pens, matchmaker!Ovi (Checkmate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanja is pretty sure he is going to be the best man at their future wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chaosneutral replied to your post: Awesome! Have you ever wondered if Ovi and Sid are really laughing at media behind the camera and they’re actually really good friends but they never let the media catch on and Geno is the long-suffering friend who thinks their both 6-year olds.

_Dude_ , yes! There would have been a couple of times even before they were drafted that they could have met, right? Like in Helsinki in ‘04. Can you just imagine it? 18-year-old Alex Ovechkin minding his own business–that is, he’s relaying his own greatness to Zhenya–when he notices a boy staring at them from across the hotel restaurant. Sanja’s brows go up. He’s about to elbow Zhenya, to point out the weird American, but when he turns to look at him, he finds Zhenya is already returning the stare.

Sanja looks back at the boy, squinting, and holy hell, that is Sidney Crosby. He is possibly the one player more talked about than Sanja himself in this tournament, if that can be believed. Sanja is pretty amazing, after all.

Crosby notices him looking and ducks his head, flushing a becoming red.

Next to him, Zhenya breathes out shakily. He seems stunned.

Sanja smirks. Well then. “Zhenya, do my eyes deceive me, or do you have something of a crush?” He props his head on his hand, smirk widening at the look of horror on Zhenya’s face.

“No!” he exclaims loudly as he looks away from Crosby, not at all subtle or convincing.

Sanja holds back a sigh. Really, they’re going to have to work on Zhenya’s poker face. The media will eat him alive otherwise. “Have you talked to him?” he asks, deliberately casual. Zhenya looks positively smitten, and Sanja doesn’t want to scare him off. Never let it be said that Alex Ovechkin is not the greatest friend there ever was. Truly, Sanja sometimes amazes himself by his greatness.

Zhenya pulls a face. “How would I? I don’t speak English.” He pouts.

“This is what you get for ignoring your studies, Zhenya,” Sanja lectures him, and blithely ignores Zhenya as he hisses out, “Shut up, my grades are better than yours.”

Sanja has seen his report card. He’ll die before admitting it’s true. “What you need is a little help, my friend. Don’t worry. I’ll be your wingman.”

He gets up from his seat, waving away Zhenya’s attempt at holding him back, and struts across the restaurant, stopping when he reaches Crosby’s table.

A teammate sees him first, back straightening and eyes narrowing the closer he gets. Sanja doesn’t remember his name, nor does he care, he is much more interested in Crosby. He steals a chair from a neighbouring table, offering a winning smile in the face of the ensuing protests before turning the chair around, placing it next to Crosby’s.

“Sidney Crosby,” he greets, and the table falls silent.

“What do you want?” It’s the teammate who asks.

Sanja tilts his head, watching, amused at the way the guy angles his shoulder, making himself seem bigger in an effort to draw attention away from Crosby.

Sanja approves. It means Zhenya’s crush is well cared for. Sanja might have been forced to interfere had things been different. “Sidney Crosby,” he says again, grinning wide. “I have decided you and me, we going to be great friends. How you say, hm, BFFs, da?” Sanja will soon play in the NHL. He’s watched American television, he knows what the cool kids say.

“I–” Crosby glances at the teammate. They seem equally confused.

Sanja doesn’t blame them. It sometimes take people a while to recognise his genius.

“We don’t even know each other, Ovechkin,” Crosby says finally.

“Oh, Sid–can I call you Sid?–we’re gonna find out all about each other. You may call me Sanja,” he offers graciously.

“Sanja?” Sidney repeats, dubious, and Sanja nods his approval.

“Now, if you finished eating, come play poker with me.”

The teammate snorts. “Sid is not gonna play poker with you. I heard how you cleaned out the Finns. I’m not gonna let you take advantage of Sid like that.”

Sanja gasps, clutching at his heart. “I would never! Sid is my BFF!” He sees Sidney roll his eyes at him and holds back a smile. His new best friend is already getting to know his ways. “Besides, we play with Zhenya,” he continues. “Zhenya would never let me take advantage.” Of Sid is what he doesn’t say; anyone else and Zhenya couldn’t have cared less. He’s as bad as Sanja.

“Zhenya?” Sidney asks, completely butchering the pronunciation. “Who is that?”

Sanja can’t hold back his grin this time. _Check_. “Zhenya is Russian nickname for Evgeni.”

Sidney straightens, looking a lot more interested suddenly. He looks over Sanja’s shoulder; Sanja doesn’t doubt who he’s looking at. “Evgeni Malkin?” Sidney asks, and while he tries to hide it, he can’t quite mask his interest.

 _And mate_ , Sanja thinks. He should pick up chess. He’s Russian, he’s bound to be great at it.

“Evgeni Malkin,” he confirms gleefully, and watches the blush that spreads across Sidney’s cheeks. Sanja is pretty sure he is going to be the best man at their future wedding.

He can hardly wait.


	74. Sid/Geno + Lucy - Talking animals, outside POV, falling in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onlylonelyglory asked:
> 
> If you're still taking prompts, pretty please S/G in an AU where Sid has a BFFL penguin (ala Connor McDavid and Percy: /watch?v=5-vbcR8T3Mk @ YouTube)? :)

Lucy likes to remind everyone that she’s older by almost a day. She hatches during the first hour of the 7th and Sidney in the dying minutes of the last.

“ _Born_ , Lucy,” Sidney will say exasperatedly. “You hatched, I was born. Jeez.”

Lucy and Sidney are best friends (”Back off, Jack Johnson!”), and other than two similarities (they both like hockey and boys, _a lot_ ), are as different as night and day. Or, you know, as a penguin and human tend to be.

No matter how different they are though, Lucy and Sidney get along like a house on fire. Sidney is a total pushover when it comes to her, and Lucy likes to take advantage. It’s a system that works well for them from childhood through puberty to Sidney being drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins.

“It’s a bit obvious, but okay,” Lucy says when they want her to pose next to Sidney in his brand new Penguins jersey.

Mario Lemieux eyes her for a few seconds before he chuckles, moving to stand next to them when the photographer beckons him.

Lucy and Sidney move to Pittsburgh and into Mario Lemieux’s house, and the Penguins have an abysmal season even if her Sidney does really well.

(He doesn’t win the Calder. Alex Ovechkin does, and Lucy is about a hundred times more salty about that than Sidney is. Her Sidney is obviously the best. “ _Best_ ,” she emphasises when she tells Alex Ovechkin this, and Sidney hisses out a mortified, “Lucy!” while Alex Ovechkin laughs and laughs and says something about how poor Zhenya has his work cut out for him.)

Lucy meets Evgeni Malkin for the first time at Mellon Arena. She’s catcalling at all the half-naked hockey players walking around the locker room, gleefully ignoring Sidney’s furious blush as he tries futilely to make her stop.

The other players are roaring with laughter, delighting in Sidney’s embarrassment and egging Lucy on. Lucy grins. She’s in the middle of an ode to Kris Letang’s fine, _fine_ ass, when she suddenly notices that Sidney is being suspiciously quiet. She slaps her flipper against the meat of Letang’s ass before turning to look for her Sidney.

_Hell no_ , she thinks when she lies eyes on where Sidney has moved to the door of the locker room, leaning against it. He’s all faux casual, staring up at Evgeni Malkin with what she can only describe as starry eyes.

Malkin, for his part, is leaning close, one arm braced against the door frame and looking at her Sidney as if he is a piece of meat he wants to devour – and Lucy is reminded that they have met before, at Mario’s house, when Lucy was in the back with the kids, playing in the pool.

Obviously that had been a mistake on her part.

“I’m really excited for us to play together,” she hears Sidney say, and while it doesn’t look like Malkin understands, he looks very interested, eyes tracking the movement of Sidney’s mouth.

_Oh, hell no_ , Lucy thinks again.


	75. Sidney Crosby & Original Child Character - Kid!fic, Little penguins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> are you still taking prompts? if so: a kid from Little Pens whose parents fail to pick him up from the event sneaks into sidney crosby's car. sid finds out when he gets home. -- singeliskates

Olesya knows she’s not supposed to go off on her own, _especially_ not in an unfamiliar place, _especially_ not when her mom is running late—and what Olesya _should_ do is find an adult to call her mom and keep her company while they wait for her to get picked up, but what she does is crawl into the backseat of Sidney Crosby’s car while Sidney Crosby is distracted by a mean-looking man in a grey and dull suit. It’s really boring.

Sidney Crosby and the mean-looking man are too busy talking to notice when Olesya quietly closes the door to the car, and she mentally high fives herself. She’s been watching old re-runs of _Totally Spice_ lately. Clearly Olesya is destined to become a spy. And a hockey player. A hockey playing spy! Awesome!

Thoughts about how awesome she’s going to be as a hockey playing spy keeps her busy during the drive until Sidney Crosby’s car comes to a stop, and suddenly Olesya doesn’t feel so confident anymore. She’s been so caught up in her mission and the glee of doing something she knows she’s not supposed to do, but now with no hum of an engine and just her in the backseat of Sidney Crosby’s car, Olesya thinks maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

What if Sidney Crosby got angry with her? What if she didn’t get to complete her mission? What if—

“Uh, hi there.”

Olesya meeps. “Sidney Crosby!” she blurts out.

Sidney Crosby is staring at her with concern and confusion. “Olesya?” he asks hesitantly, and Olesya blinks. Sidney Crosby remembers her name!

“What are you doing here, kiddo? Why aren’t you with your parents?”

“I wanted to meet Evgeni Malkin! And my mom was late, so I thought if I snuck into your car I’d get to meet Evgeni Malkin, ‘cause Sarah and Tommy said you and Evgeni Malkin are neighbours and Evgeni Malkin wasn’t at the rink today and I’m his biggest fan. He’s the best hockey player in the world, and he’s from Russia too, and I just wanted to meet him so bad and—”

She’s interrupted by the sound of Sidney Crosby laughing, and Olesya flushes, realising she’s been babbling. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Sidney Crosby laughs again. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go inside and call your parents, okay? And we can call Geno too. He’ll probably be excited to meet you while we wait.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Sidney Crosby says, and takes Olesya’s hand, leading her up the driveway.

Yes! Olesya is gonna be the best hockey playing spy ever!


	76. Tom Wilson/Micheal Latta - Mpreg, friends to lovers (Wifey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This probably ignores all canon, cause I really don’t know enough about the Caps. Also, I’m shamelessly clichéd — aka in which Mike gets knocked up by a stranger but Tom wants him and the baby anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Willy/Latts orig mpreg anon here. I would prefer Latts pregnant. 😍 Thank youuuu do anything, it's up to you but maybe it'd be unplanned/surprise bundle of joy. A li'l bit of angst is always good tho, my lady 😍

Mike in his last trimester of pregnancy does Tom no favours. Mike is huge. His ankles are swollen, his back aches constantly, his stomach is large and round and if Tom so much as glance at him he starts sporting a chubby.

Tom had no idea, _no idea_ , that he was into the whole pregnancy kink. He thinks maybe he’s not. He thinks maybe he’s into _Mike_ being pregnant.

(He thinks maybe he’s fucked.)

Shit.

Tom’s a fucking pervert. Mike would probably be so disgusted if he knew, and freaked out at the very least.

God. Tom is twenty-one. He’s too young to be having a pregnancy kink, and he definitely shouldn’t be lusting after his pregnant roommate, even if Mike _is_ single—even if he’s healthy and glowing and so fucking gorgeous it makes Tom wants to cry a little.

Willy and Osh have taken to calling him Tom’s wife. “Where’s wifey today?” T.J. will ask if Tom arrives at the rink on his own, because Mike tags along most days, determined not to lose touch with the rest of the guys while he’s side lined, forced to watch them win together and lose together (rarely) while he can only watch from the press box.

It’s always in jest, just a little friendly ribbing, nothing malicious, and Tom thinks it’d make him uncomfortable if they weren’t so damn earnest about it. Tom was protective of Mike before, and he’s even more so now. It doesn’t matter that Tom is three years younger, doesn’t matter that he’s not the father of Mike’s baby (doesn’t matter that the father is not involved), Tom has been catering to pretty much all of Mike’s many whims throughout the pregnancy.

“Which really isn’t so different from before, you know,” André says once, looking at Tom knowingly.

Tom blithely ignores him. André doesn’t even live with them anymore. What the hell does he know?

(Other than that Mike regularly sent him out for errands during the day or even night-time cravings sometimes, and Tom complained and grumbled and generally made a lot of fuss, by he went. He always went.)

And maybe Tom doesn’t protest as much as he used to, maybe he folds with no fight at all when Mike looks at him with his big doe-eyed gaze and begs for a foot massage. He’s growing a person, okay? The least Tom can do is give him a fucking foot massage, _shut up, André._

So, yeah. Willy and Osh call Mike his wifey, and, secretly, just for himself, Tom does too.

Mike does nothing to dissuade it. He’ll cheerfully tag along to practices and games, rubbing a hand over the baby bump and shamelessly take advantage of the group of grown-ass hockey players falling all over themselves to bring him this thing or that, because they’re all a little stupid about one of their own having a baby.

Ovi has even dubbed it the team baby, and Tom sometimes eyes him warily, lest he get any ideas. He wouldn’t put it past him.

The pregnancy had come as a surprise to all of them. Boy had it ever. 

Mike hadn’t even been dating. His baby is the result of some drunken hook-up from a pre-season party with some random dude who didn’t even want anything to do with the baby. Asshole.

Mike hadn’t cared though. By all accounts, he should be freaking out, should be panicking, but he wasn’t, not about the pregnancy and not about the guy who’d knocked him up and then walked away. None of it mattered. Mike had found out about the baby and that’d been all she wrote. He’d wanted that baby so much.

There was never any doubt about that.

Tom is the one who is panicking. Tom is the one who is worrying about baby cribs and getting the nursery done in time and freaking the hell out over how things are going to change now.

How is he supposed to keep living with Mike, looking at him every day and wanting him so much he physically aches with it?

(How is he supposed to help his friend raise a baby when he keeps wishing that the baby is his too?)

“You worry too much,” Mike tells him when he finds Tom on the floor of the nursery. He’s trying to make sense of the Ikea instructions in his hands so he can assemble the crib they’d spent twenty minutes arguing about before Tom had, predictably, caved and bought it, much to Mike’s satisfaction.

“Hm?”

“About the baby and me,” Mike explains.

Tom freezes. He risks a glance up at where Mike is standing in the door opening, beautiful and so full of life. Tom wants him so much he hardly knows what to do with himself.

“What?”

“You’re attracted to me. It’s cool. I want you too.”

“You want me?” Tom asks stupidly. His hands go lax and the Ikea manual falls uselessly to the floor. “What?”

Mike grins at him, amused. “At first, I thought maybe you were holding back because I’m pregnant, and then because you felt weird about the baby being someone else’s, but I finally figured out why you weren’t doing anything, even though I knew you wanted to.”

“What?” Tom croaks out again. He’s utterly dumbfounded.

Mike steps into the room. He walks over to Tom, reaching out one hand and looking at him expectantly.

Tom takes the hand and climbs to his feet, careful not to let Mike take his weight.

“You thought I didn’t want you back, but I do. I want you a lot, actually,” Mike says when Tom is standing upright, and he’s looking down at him now, into those pretty, doe eyes he loves so much, and Tom thinks maybe Mike is serious.

“You want me?” he repeats, shuffling closer to Mike, until his stomach is pressed into Mike’s bulging one. “You’re not—you’re not waiting around for the baby’s dad or something?”

Mike shakes his head. His voice is quiet when he says, “I don’t want the dad. I mean, if he decides he wants to be involved that’s fine, but you’re the one I want.”

“Why now? Why tell me this now?”

“I got tired of waiting for you to make a move,” Mike says. He looks up at Tom, grinning cheekily. “I’ve been flirting with you for months, you know.”

Tom blinks at him. What now? “You have?”

“Uh huh.” Mike leans in, pressing a barely there kiss against Tom’s jaw, making him shiver. “Besides,” he says. “I’m horny.”

And Tom has spent almost nine months taking care of Mike’s pregnancy needs.

This time is no different.


	77. Sid/Geno - Single dad!Geno, different teams, pre-relationship (Wasn't Expecting You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhenya sees Sidney Crosby dangling over the boards and promptly walks into a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Looking at that pic with Sid hanging over the boards at his hockey camp makes me think of dad!Geno dropping off his daughter, seeing the glorious Crosby ass up in the air, and promptly walking into a wall.

“Papa!”

“Oh shit, man.”

“Son of a—” Zhenya just manages to catch himself in time, swallowing the curse on his tongue even if Irina is the only one who’d understand if he’d let it slip anyway. He’s not sending her back to her mother’s with a new swear in her repertoire no matter how bad his nose is smarting. Not again.

“Dude, are you okay? Crap! You’re bleeding!” Zhenya waves away where Nathan MacKinnon is flitting around him anxiously, steadfastly ignoring his questions of “Are you sure you’re okay?” and “What even happened?” because Zhenya is not okay and it’s all Sidney Crosby’s fault and mostly Sidney Crosby’s ass’ fault and Zhenya would really rather like to keep that to himself.

Not only is it embarrassing, but he’s pretty sure it would be emotionally damaging to his poor daughter.

Who is already shaking her head at him sadly, eyeing him with knowing eyes. Curse his offspring and that big beautiful brain of hers.

“Oh, Papa.” She sighs, all fond and exasperated, as if she’s the parent and Zhenya the child, and hands him a stack of tissue paper, patting him on the arm, not unkindly.

Zhenya’s heart aches just a little bit. She’s so grown up now, twelve going on twenty; he longs for the time when she was five and Zhenya was her hero, capable of no wrong.

Certainly not the kind where he’s running into walls at the sight of Sidney Crosby dangling over the boards, displaying his ass for the whole world to see as if that is a perfectly okay thing to do.

(It’s not.)

Zhenya might never recover from this.

“Hey, are you okay?” a concerned voice interrupts them, and Zhenya looks up. He’s immediately distracted by long lashes and hazel green eyes. “I didn’t see what happened, but that looks painful.” Tentative fingers prod at his nose carefully, and thank god for his daughter, because Zhenya is a little tongue-tied by the fact that Sidney Crosby is currently all up in his personal space.

“Papa walked into a wall,” Irina says cheerfully. “He was a little distracted.” There’s no trace of an accent, her English flawless. Much better than Zhenya’s even though she spends most of her time in Russia with her mother, only spending the holidays with Zhenya, in LA usually.

“Ouch,” Sidney says. He lets his fingers fall away, and flashes a smile at Irina before looking back at Zhenya. “Doesn’t look broken, at least. Small mercies, eh?”

“Yes,” Zhenya agrees. It hurts like a bitch, and he can still feel blood trickling past where he’s holding the tissues against his nose, but it’s worth it for the way Sidney frowns and tuts at him, reaching out again and gently tipping Zhenya’s head up.

“Easier to stop the bleed,” Sidney says, his eyes crinkling at the corners and looking more perfect than he has any right to.

This is the first time Sidney and Zhenya ever meet in person. They’ve played in the same league for a decade now, but in different conferences on separate teams. They’ve seen each other of course, played against each other, but it’s the first time they have an actual conversation.

Sidney is everything Zhenya had hoped he’d be and more; distance and lack of familiarity has done nothing to prevent the crush Zhenya’s been nursing for years.

Irina grins wider and does him a solid by pulling MacKinnon away. “We’re gonna go look for bandages. Take care of my papa, ok, mr Crosby?”

“Please call me Sid or Sidney, Irina. And don’t worry, your dad’s in good hands.” Sidney smiles at him. “It’s Geno, right? Or do you prefer Evgeni? I don’t want to presume. I mean, you know Nealer, right? James Neal? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him refer to you as Geno and—”

When Zhenya gets a moment alone with his daughter, he’s gonna have a word with her about meddling with his love life and actually acting like her age for once, but right now he’s pretty distracted by the way Sidney is rambling, seemingly unable to stop himself. He is talking about how good it is of Zhenya to take time out of his busy schedule to accompany Irina to the camp, and how he’d seen the name Malkin on the registration forms and he’d hoped he’d get to meet him because, “I can’t believe we haven’t been properly introduced before. We have so many mutual friends, you know. Ovi keeps telling me every time I see him that we should meet and—” Sidney cuts himself off. He blushes a bright red, looking at Zhenya from underneath his lashes.

Zhenya never stood a chance.

“Sorry, I’m babbling. I don’t usually talk this much. I’m just excited to meet you.”

“S’okay,” Zhenya says. “You can call me Geno. Nice to meet.”

Sidney smiles at him, huge and bright. “Hi, Geno,” he breathes out, and Zhenya thinks, Uh oh.


	78. Sid/Geno - Single dad!Sid, teenagers, friends to lovers (Under Water Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney loves Lizzie more than anything, but being a single parent at eighteen is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> werewolfzero inquired: I have such a thing for dad!Sid. Like mpreg, sure (always) but hell fic where he loses his virginity and accidentally knocks the girl up and his baby his born right around the draft and he’s gotta try and be an NHL superstar AND raise a little kid secretly at the same time, because of course only his family and Jack (his fault) and Mario know and then Geno finds out one day and it takes off from there

Friend, compadre, chum, I don’t know if you intended this as a prompt or not, but

I have feelings about this okay, deep mushy feelings about late-night feedings and Sid showing up at practice half asleep, so fucking exhausted and convinced he’s a horrible dad for leaving his baby during the day, and also thinking about what he’s doing wrong because sometimes the baby cries and cries, and Sid doesn’t know what’s wrong. He’s tried feeding, changing the diaper, rocking the baby, singing, everything, but it’s like his little girl is furious with the world and everyone in it and she wants everyone to know, and her, frankly, impressive set of lungs lends itself perfectly for this purpose.

Mario and Nathalie and the kids help, and they’ve got a live-in nanny too, but Sid feels so alone. He wants to talk to someone closer to his age, to his friends, and even the baby’s mother, but Sarah signed away her rights and an NDA and Sid is alone even when he’s not. It’s a horrible feeling, like he’s in limbo, he and his little girl, just waiting for something to change, for something or someone to come along and save them.

So he shows up at practice, dragging his feet, chugging coffee as though it is water to force his eyes open—and the guys jeer at him. They holler and catcall appreciatively, thinking that Sid is living it up, that he’s got a girl or five he’s fooling around with. Sid does have a girl, of course, his Lizzie, but she’s his daughter and she’s perfect even if Sid sometimes feels terrible, feels so fucking guilty for thinking that life would be so much easier if Jack hadn’t dragged him along to that stupid party, if Sid hadn’t met Sarah—beautiful, experienced Sarah, who’d been so kind and casual about Sid’s virginity—and knocked her up. Life would have been much easier without Lizzie, he thinks sometimes, but then he sees his little girl and Sid hates himself for ever thinking it. He’s been a dad for less than half a year, but Lizzie is everything to him, and he doesn’t regret her despite all the work and stress that comes along with being a single, teenaged parent. 

It doesn’t take long before the guys figure out that something’s up. Sid rarely goes out with them if they’re on the road, and never if they’re in Pittsburgh. It quickly becomes another one of Sid’s idiosyncrasies. Just Sid being Sid, but not everyone is convinced. Colby, in particular, is deeply sceptical. He shares a room with Sid when they’re on the road, and he sees first hand how tense Sid gets, how distracted, checking his phone every couple of minutes and shifting restlessly, as if all he does is waiting for the time to pass.

And he’s not wrong, is the thing. Sid does spend most of the trips counting down the minutes until he’s back with Lizzie, but Colby doesn’t know that, he only knows that Sidney seriously hates travelling, is much happier whenever they have a stretch of home games that will keep them in Pittsburgh for more than three days at a time.

Sid has had Mario as a buffer with the team, keeping them from being too noisy, from poking too deeply into his personal life, but then December comes around and Mario is playing less and less. On January 24, he announces his retirement. Suddenly, the Penguins are without a captain.

They offer the captaincy to Sidney, and the news reaches the locker room. He’s only 18, and still so very inexperienced, really, but the guys seem to think it’s a good idea, because they actually like Sidney despite his weird habits and manners, but Sidney keeps putting it off. His baby girl comes first, and while Sidney thinks he’d make a good captain, it’s not the right time yet.

They finish the season at the bottom of the Eastern Conference and with only St. Louis below them in the standings. If he’s honest with himself, Sid knows even a healthy Mario could not have made much of a difference. The game is too changed, and they’re missing pieces of what will make them great, he knows. The Penguins abysmal record is great for one thing though; it allows them to draft Jordan Staal second overall.

Sid has seen him play. He knows, before even meeting him, that Jordan is one of their missing pieces. The other is Evgeni Malkin.

If he hadn’t been so busy with Lizzie, Sid would probably have cared more that literally the best player not in the NHL (and even then, Sid knows Malkin has an insane amount of potential) still hadn’t found his way to Pittsburgh, but as it is, Lizzie is teething, a nightmare for all of them, and Sid does not have the time to keep track of the happenings between Metallurg and Pittsburgh.

Lizzie’s misery is probably why Sid had completely forgotten that the Lemiuexs were expecting company, and so, when he wanders downstairs in search of a clean teething ring, his little girl on his hip, he was not expecting to run into Gonch.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s here, okay? We’ll get you a teething ring and you’ll feel so much better.”

Lizzie is sobbing loudly, unconvinced by her daddy’s prediction, and it’s so, so heartbreaking. He feels helpless, doesn’t know what to do to make her feel better, and is rubbing at her back in an attempt to comfort her when someone says, “Sid?”

Sidney freezes, turning to see Gonch staring at him dumbfounded. “You have a kid?”

“I—”

“Baby!” someone cuts him off excitedly, and Sidney blinks when there is suddenly a tall man in front of them, bending at the waist as he smiles hugely at Lizzie.

Even Lizzie is startled into silence at the sudden appearance of what Sidney can now recognises as, oh. Holy shit. Evgeni Malkin. 

He looks like shit, is obviously exhausted, but he launches into an excited flurry of Russian, looking from Sid and Lizzie to Gonch expectantly.

“He says he didn’t know you had a baby,” Gonch explains at Sidney’s obvious confusion. “He wants to know what her name is.”

Sidney is too taken aback by their sudden appearance to really process what Gonch is saying, but Lizzie, amazingly, looks utterly charmed by this tall stranger. It appears to be mutual, Sid notices. Malkin looks like he’s barely restraining himself from reaching out and taking Lizzie into his own arms.

He doesn’t know where Mario is, but neither Gonch or Malkin seem inclined to find him. They’re looking at Sid patiently, and for the first time since he came to Pittsburgh, Sid realises that he can’t keep her secret forever. As much as he hates it, there is a limit to the degree of which he can protect his daughter from the world. He gives them her name.

“Elizabeth. Her name is Elizabeth Crosby. We call her, Lizzie, though.”

Malkin’s smile gentles, and very slowly, careful to take note of Sid’s reaction, he reaches out a large hand, closing it around one of Lizzie’s small ones.

“Lizzie,” he says, his voice heavily accented, and gives her hand a friendly shake.


	79. Sid/Geno - Single dad!Sid, teenagers, friends to lovers (Under Water Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> werewolfzero inquired: OH OH OH you made another part to dad Sidney aaaah! So cute. And the world knows he’s a papa! How did they find out; did Sid just come out with it, did a snoopy reporter see him walking around ‘in disguise’ with her, did Geno get overheard babbling to Gonch in Russian about what a cutie Elizabeth Crosby is?

There’s a press conference, the unexpected kind that years later people will come to recognise as something big going down (Sid’s concussion, Tanger’s stroke, Duper’s blood cloths, Olli’s cancer. And okay, yeah, mostly that’s all been rotten luck, but the big announcements starts with Lizzie).

There is a lot of shock, naturally. It spreads outside of the sports media into mainstream news until it becomes national, and then international news.

The attention is…overwhelming. It’s unlike anything Sidney has ever experienced, and he’s been living in the bright glare of the media lights since he was prepubescent. There is a crazy three months of unrelenting questions and attention, reporters trying to discover the identity of Lizzie’s mother, the circumstances of her conception and birth – it’s a lot, and through all of it, Geno is there to support him.

Geno is there to keep him calm when Sidney gets so fed up and is so fraught by all the attention that he feels as if he is perpetually one second away from a total breakdown. He’s there when people get too close and too handsy and too demanding, and it only takes that one time of Geno losing it before they start backing off, realising they’ll have to come by their answers elsewhere.

They spend so much time together, practically living out of each other’s pockets; it almost feels as if they’re living in a bubble, just the three of them. People come to recognise that to find one, track down the other.

All of the time they spend together allows the mutual love fest between Lizzie and Geno continues (she adores him, really), and most of the time, Geno can be found over at the Lemieuxs’, taking custody of Lizzie while Sidney bustles about in the little apartment. It works for them, strangely. Sidney trusts him more and more everyday, and Geno finally starts relaxing. With every new day, he loses some of the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders as the pain and regret from leaving home the way he did starts to fade.

Sidney isn’t sure Geno will ever be completely over it, but at least he’s smiling, he’s bothering to engage with his teammates and learning English and living.

It feels good that he chooses to share that with Sid and Lizzie.

He doesn’t know what he’d do now without Geno in their lives. It feels wrong.

Which is why it stings so much when their season gets cut short in April, beaten out by the Senators in their very first playoff series.

Sid had been so excited for it, Geno too. Playoff hockey was like nothing else, and losing hurt. It always would.

But this year, losing meant Geno going back to Russia. Losing meant that for three whole months, it was back to being just Sid and Lizzie, instead of it being Sid and Lizzie and Geno, the way it had been for the last year or so.

Lizzie is too young to understand, she only just turned two, but Sid feels off. He carries around a constant feeling of unease, off-kilter now that he won’t have Geno to lean on.

“Will only be for summer, Sid,” Geno says, playing with Lizzie on his lap while Sidney folds clothes in the living room. “Not forever. I’m come back, I promise.”

“Of course you’ll come back,” Sidney snipes, glaring at Geno as if daring him not to. He scowls when Geno just rolls his eyes at him.

“Then why you be so–” He makes a gesture, saying something in Russian Sidney is pretty sure is a variant of unreasonable. He calls Lizzie that a lot, when she’s being stubborn and screams bloody murder when they give her a bath.

Sidney’s scowl deepens. He is not being unreasonable.

“I’m not! I’m just–” scared, he doesn’t say, because if he does then it all becomes too real. It hasn’t until now, not really. Sidney is a teenager and a single parent, but he’s never been alone. He’s had his parents, the Lemieuxs, Geno, they have all been helping him, and it’s made him dependent on their help and their support and it’s a crutch, Sidney knows that, he does, but he’s scared.

Lizzie is- she is everything. She’s his life, but she’s a lot of work and Sidney loves her so much, but he’s not sure he can do this alone, not when he’s never really had to parent her all by himself.

He’ll have too, this summer. He’ll be traveling all over the place and he’ll have Lizzie with him every step of the way and – Sidney is terrified. He’s pretty sure parenting is all about following his gut and praying to God he doesn’t mess up his kid, but what if his gut is wrong? What if it turns out he can’t do it on his own, that he’s not a good dad?

“Why you say that? Sid, you best dad! Best! Never say you not!”

Sidney blinks. He hadn’t realised he’d been talking aloud. He looks at Geno, can’t help his smile at the way he’s patiently letting Lizzie attempt to listen to his heart with her little play stethoscope.

His dad says she’s bound to go into medicine when she’s old enough. The only time she’s completely quiet and engrossed in her play is when she’s fiddling with her medical kit.

Otherwise, Lizzie’s default volume is turned to loud. Geno’s thinks it’s hilarious. Says he’s never seen a child so unlike their parent.

“You really think so?” Sidney asks. “You really think we’ll be okay, just the two of us?”

Geno scoffs. “For sure,” he says, poking out his tongue at Sid when he throws a sock at his head for teasing him.

“For sure, eh?” Sidney says. He laughs at the way Geno beams at him, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up, the dork.

Yeah, Sidney thinks, looking at his daughter and best friend. He can do this.

They’ll be fine.


	80. Sid/Geno - Single dad!Sid, teenagers, friends to lovers (Under Water Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> book23worm inquired: “I’ve got one word for you: sing-along!” Pretty please??? Sid and G naturally. Do with it what you will:) P. S. You realise Sid can’t unsee it and people can’t unread it right? Which is good because as bizarre as the visual is, I could not stop laughing!

Evgeni Malkin is a surly diva, Army tells Sid during camp one day. Even a little mean.

Sidney has no idea what he’s talking about. Geno’s a big teddybear. A sweetheart. Lizzie adores him and the feeling is mutual. In fact, Geno seems to have adopted them both, taking on the dual role of babysitter and bodyguard as he trails after Sid when he’s out on errands, somehow managing to loom threateningly with the baby on his hip whenever anyone comes too close—and yeah, okay, Sid can sort of see what Army means.

Sidney maybe forgives Geno a lot, not least of all because he’s so good with Lizzie, but it’s obvious he misses his home and his family, and it’s very, very clear he’s still angry at his former team. Sid gets that. There’s resentment there, and a lot of it, and Geno, who is already struggling with his limited English vocabulary, doesn’t really have any way of expressing himself.

Sidney reckons Geno’s bottled up emotions make him a little more aggressive in practice than necessary, but he’s not hurting anyone and he’s playing amazing. He figures it’s okay.

“A diva, Sid,” Army repeats later in the day. He’s sitting cross-legged in his chair, grinning as he watches Sidney attempt to negotiate some food into his daughter.

They’re at a stalemate. She’s about as stubborn as him.

Sidney sighs. He leans back in his chair, letting the baby spoon clatter to her little baby tray. He narrows his eyes at her.

“I know you’re hungry,” he tells her. “Army knows you’re hungry, you know you’re hungry. Everybody knows you’re hungry, so please, sweetheart, eat your food.”

“No!” Lizzie yells at him. It’s her favourite word next to Daddy and Gee Gee.

She’s yet to pronounce his name properly, but Geno doesn’t seem to care. He’s positively smitten with her.

Army snorts. “Man, I still can’t believe you’re a dad. It’s so weird,” he says, and Sidney hums.

He’s still extremely cautious when it comes to exposing Lizzie outside of his immediate circle of friends and family, but the world knows about her now, and while Sid is still dealing with the backlash, he’s handling it.

The Pittsburgh media, at least, seem to respect his privacy when it comes to his daughter, and for those who don’t, well—Geno really is quite protective of them.

“It’s not that strange is it?”

Army shakes his head. “No, it really is. Like, I knew you for almost a whole year before I found out! That’s a huge deal!”

Sidney shrugs. He knows it had been a shock for his teammates, but beyond their surprise, no one had reacted badly. A few of the older guys had even offered parenting advice.

“Dada,” Lizzie says. Her lips are wobbling, as though she might start crying soon, and Sidney knows she’s hungry, but she’s still teething, her gums aching so bad she’ll refuse to eat for as long as she can stand.

“I know, baby,” Sid says. “I know it hurts, but you still have to eat.” He leans forward, grabbing the spoon and raising it to her mouth again. “Please? For Daddy?”

She bats at the spoon grumpily, looking about as miserable as Sidney feels.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to clean away the mess. He’s grateful it lets him turn his back to Army for a second, feeling so helpless and defeated he has to fight back tears of frustration.

Army watches him silently for a minute. “You okay?” he asks eventually, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah,” Sidney breathes out. He collapses back into his chair. “It’s just, she has to eat, you know, and she won’t, so. It’s just frustrating.”

“Sucks. I’m sorry.”

Sidney shrugs again. “Geno usually helps. She’s a little bit in love with him, I think. He’s really good with her, you know.” He looks pointedly at Army.

Army rolls his eyes. “He’s a diva. D, i, v, a.”

“You’ve been watching too much Ellen,” Sidney teases, and then startles when there’s a sudden knock on the door leading in to his little apartment. Mario and Nathalie tends to leave him alone when he’s got guests over, and the kids shout if they need something.

“Come in,” Sidney calls out, sharing a look with Army.

He breaks out into a smile when he sees who walks into the kitchen, and next to him, Lizzie squeals excitedly.

“Gee Gee!” she yells, gleeful. She stretches out her little chubby arms, making grabby hands at Geno.

Geno smiles back at them, one hand trailing over Sid’s shoulder as he bends down to press a huge, sloppy kiss to Lizzie’s cheek. He whisper something low and sweet-sounding in Russian, and across the table, Army gapes at them.

What the fuck? he mouths at Sidney.

Sidney snickers under his breath, revelling in Army’s surprise.

Geno is usually so forceful in practice, it must be jarring to see him acting so sweet.

“Right,” Army says. He uncrosses his legs, rubbing his hands down his calfs to get the blood flowing before he stands from his seat. “I’m gonna take off. I’ll see you guys in practice tomorrow.”

Sidney blinks, but gets up to follow him. “You don’t have to leave just because Geno is here,” he says as he trails after him.

Army stops by the door, turning to draw Sidney into a brief hug, slapping him hard on the back. “Nah, I’m good. You guys hang out.” He pulls back, wiggling his brows stupidly at him, and Sidney scoffs. He punches his shoulder.

“Perv,” he says.

Army laughs. “Sure. I’ll see myself out, okay?”

Sidney follows him out to the stairs, waiting at the top to make sure Army takes the right turn before shuffling back inside his apartments. He smiles softly when he sees Geno with Lizzie on his lap, murmuring to her as she knuckles tiredly at her eyes.

“Did she eat anything?”

Geno looks up, shaking his head when he sees him. “No.” He makes a face. “Too much hurt.”

“Yeah.” Sidney sighs. He feels exhausted. “I figured.”

Nathalie keeps telling him he just needs to be patient, and so does his mother. Lizzie will start eating normally when the ache passes, but it’s brutal watching his child hurt. He just wants to wrap her up in bubblewrap and hide her from the world.

“Nap?” Geno suggests, because he knows as well as Sidney that a tired, cranky Lizzie is definitely not going to eat. They may as well put her down for a nap.

He nods, reaching out to take Lizzie from Geno’s arms. He carries her into what had originally been a walk-in closet, but has now been remodelled and turned into Lizzie’s nursery.

It amazes Sidney everyday just how generous Mario and his family has been. How welcoming and accommodating they’ve been to him and Lizzie.

He doesn’t know that anyone else would have been as understanding and accepting of his situation–doesn’t know how he’d survive this without them, and Geno too, these days.

“Sing song?” Geno asks when Sid has lowered Lizzie into her crib, tucking her Iceburgh toy close to her side.

Lizzie is generally an easy sleeper, but it takes a while, sometimes, for her to fall asleep when she’s upset and achy.

Reading a story or singing a song usually helps.

Nathalie says it’s because Sid’s voice comforts her. Makes her feel safe.

Sidney feels warm inside just thinking about it, feels the love he has for his daughter surge through his body in torrents.

“Yeah,” he says. “Which song?”

Geno tilts his head to the side. He pokes his tongue out, eyes glinting mischievously as he says, “Baby got back?”

Sidney groans. He doesn’t understand how or when old-school rap became Lizzie’s favourite genre, but he can’t deny she’d much rather listen to Baby Got Back than the Itsy Bitsy Spider.

“Fine,” he agrees, and then, because Sidney is a pushover and Geno claims his English is still too bad, he lets Geno beatbox (poorly) while Sidney raps out the lyrics to Baby Got Back.

It says a lot about the state of his life, Sidney thinks, that he knows the song by heart.

(At least Lizzie likes it.)


	81. Sid/Geno - Single dad!Sid, teenagers, friends to lovers (Under Water Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: I’m loving the Sophia verse, but are you going to continue the teenaged parent Sid verse? I would love to know how Sid and Elizabeth handle the summer without Geno.

Sidney lasts a total of three weeks before he folds and cancels most of his summer plans.

He packs a couple of bags, books their tickets, and calls to let Geno know he and Lizzie are coming to Russia.

“What?” Geno demands. “No, is bad idea. Am in Moscow now, Sid. Sanja here, Oksana, too. We party all the time. No place for baby.”

“I’m not going to Moscow to party, G. Besides, we’re already in Amsterdam. We’ve got a two-hour layover before our next flight.”

Sidney hears Geno sigh over the phone, put upon.

“Not fair,” he says. “Have plans this summer. Can’t just expect me to drop off because you come.”

“Drop everything,” Sidney corrects. “And I’m not expecting you to do anything.” Which is a lie; Lizzie is currently sleeping peacefully in Sidney’s arms, but when she’s awake she is so, so loud. And so stubborn. Sidney desperately misses Geno and the ease with which he handles Lizzie.

It’s selfish, he knows that. It’s unfair to Geno, just like he’d said, but–

“I’m just going to Moscow to relax,” he says, because he is so very tired, mentally and physically and emotionally so.

He’s stuck in a vicious cycle of too little sleep and his exhaustion feeding into his fears and doubts; he keeps thinking he’s a terrible father, that he’s too young for this. He keeps thinking he can’t do it on his own. He needs help.

He feels guilty all the time, feels it like a physical thing, heavy and solid inside of him, eating away at his insides.

He loves Lizzie so much, but where before he’s had a support system to deal with the stress of being a teenaged parent, of how overwhelming it can be, now he’s on his own, and he feels like he’s free falling.

Everyday he falls a little more, and the worst part is that he can’t see the bottom, doesn’t know how far he’ll sink.

He’s miserable. Parenting Lizzie is making him miserable, which makes him feel so guilty and so ashamed, because she’s his daughter and what kind of parent is he that his own kid is making him miserable?

He doesn’t know what to do to make it better, doesn’t feel like he can talk about it, doesn’t want to know what it say about him that he doesn’t know how to parent his child. That sometimes, he doesn’t want to.

He’s never wished for Lizzie not to have been born, he’s never resented her, but he resents himself, resents his lack of ability.

He keeps thinking of the time before, before Lizzie, when all he had to worry about was himself and how easy that had been compared to now.

He keeps thinking, and the guilt eats away at him, like a living thing, growing bigger everyday until Sidney can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t–

He needs help.

He needs Geno.

His breath hitches, his voice a little shaky when he repeats, “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Sid,” Geno says and nothing more.

There is a long pause over the line; Sidney closes his eyes, prays for Geno not to call him out on how upset he knows he sounds, prays for him not to say, ‘go back’.

“When plane land in Moscow? I’m come pick you up.”

Sidney exhales deeply. He has to squeeze his eyes shut tighter to keep his tears at bay.

“Thank you,” he says after rattling off the flight details. He knows he’s being silly and dramatic, but he’s just so overwhelmingly grateful, feels something unclench, just a little bit, around his heart.

Three weeks.

That’s all he’s lasted on his own with his daughter.

Three weeks before he knew there was nothing else to do but to seek help, in a roundabout way, maybe, more complicated than it has to be, he knows, but it’s Geno – Geno has been his partner in crime since he first made the move to Pittsburgh from Russia and to suddenly be without him has been harder than Sidney had ever thought it would be

Turning to Geno doesn’t seem as much of a defeat, a failure, as turning to his parents for help would have been, or even Mario and Nathalie.

“Sidney,” Geno says. His voice is so low, and he so very rarely calls him by his full name, Sidney is a little startled by it.

“Are you–?” He stutters a little, sounding awkward and clumsy as he searches for the right words in English. “Are you okay? Is everything– Is Lizzie okay?”

Sidney shakes his head even as he knows Geno can’t see him. He breathes in shakily, feels his eyes well up again as he says, “Lizzie is fine. She’s– She’s fine.”

“And you?”

“I’m okay, too.”

“Sid,” Geno says. “Truth?” He’s not having any of Sidney’s bullshit.

And maybe before, even just a day earlier, Sidney would have said he’s fine, would have kept up the pretence because people weren’t supposed to make themselves sick at the thought of parenting their child; he would have been too ashamed, too embarrassed to say, “I think I need help.”


	82. Sid/Geno - Mpreg, getting together (Splitting Wood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geno would just like all parties involved to know that it was Phil’s fault.
> 
> WIP

Geno would like all parties involved to know that it was all Phil’s fault.

Phil will deny this, Geno knows, but the truth is that Phil is the one who looked at Sidney and cooed about his child-bearing hips—“It was a joke, Geno, Christ!”—and that’s where it all started.

Sidney has…child-bearing hips. It’s not as if Geno has been previously unaware. In fact, he is very much aware of everything Sid. Some might even call Geno an expert on the topic of Sidney Crosby.

Geno certainly would. He’s got years of research and observations to back up his facts. And the fact is: Sidney is lovely.

All of him is. From his hazel eyes to his wide, generous mouth and the nose that is just a little too big for his face. It suits him, though. Gives him character, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones only adds to it. Then there’s his shoulders, and his torso, and his abs and his thighs and his legs, and, finally, the crown jewel that is his ass.

Geno is very appreciative of the ass. Of how big it is, and round, and—

Geno wants to do things to that ass. And Sidney. Like of the marriage variety. Not that Sidney knows. Sidney is oblivious to these kinds of things, he always has been. Usually, that’s been a two-way street. Sidney has sex plenty, but he doesn’t do relationships. Not ever. It’s as if Sidney’s disregard for romance has turned off potential suitors, made them overlook him as a potential mate. Geno thinks these people are idiots, because honestly, how can anyone look at Sidney and not want? But it does mean that Geno has gone years without having had to worry about this guy or that girl, about Sidney falling in love with someone else until he was out of Geno’s reach entirely.

Geno is in love with Sidney. He has been for some time. He’s managed it just fine; he falls out of love when he meets someone else, and he doesn’t think about Sidney like that, usually, for as long as his relationships last.

(Possibly, Geno’s relationships don’t last because ‘usually’ means ‘sometimes’ and ‘sometimes’ is enough to remind him that no one can quite measure up to Sidney in his mind. Geno loves Sidney and always will, even if Sidney doesn’t love him back.)

It’s been fine like that. Geno has settled for Sidney’s friendship, and it’s enough, truly, until Phil goes and messes it up by commenting on Sid’s child-bearing hips.

The thing is, Geno is getting older. He’s pushing thirty, and while that’s fine too, he is reminded at even intervals that he is still an unattached bachelor who has provided no grandchildren for his parents to spoil.

Geno would like to remedy this. He would like to remedy it with Sid.

Sidney is surprising on board with this idea.

“What?” Geno says, and is fairly sure that he has gone temporarily deaf.

“We should make a baby,” Sidney repeats cheerfully.

Geno glares at him. The audacity; to drop a bomb on Geno like that and do it while looking as if he hasn’t a care in the world. As if he hasn’t rocked Geno down to the very core of him.

“We not even date!” Geno says. It maybe comes out more petulant than the scandalous tone he was going for, but whatever. It’s not as if Sidney will pick up on it. Hopefully.

Sidney sighs patiently. “It’s 2016, Geno. People don’t actually have to be together these days to have a baby.”

Yes, Geno is aware. He just hadn’t thought Sidney was.

“You want a kid, and I want a kid. Let’s just make one together; I trust you. I could see myself doing this with you.”

“You trust me?” Geno repeats incredulously. “Need more than trust. People not make baby like factory. It’s relationship! Is work! Is eighteen years together. At least!”

Sidney nods as if this makes perfect sense. “Exactly. I don’t want to bind myself to someone else for eighteen years for the sake of a kid. You’re my best friend, though, and I want a baby, like, now. It makes perfect sense that I do this with you.”

Geno is almost positive that he should feel flattered. Instead, his head is kind of reeling. “I—? Is this because Phil say you have child-bearing hips? He joke, Sid. Phil is an idiot; he just say because he watch stupid show on tv because he is stupid.”

“I mean, I have definitely thought about having a baby before, but yeah, Phil kind of pushed me into actually doing something about it.” Sidney sighs again. He looks up at Geno from beneath his lashes, because he is wily and manipulative like that, and he knows that Geno has a generally hard time saying no to anything Sid wants him to do when all he can focus on is the inky dark spill of Sidney’s lashes against his pale skin.

Geno has been to actual jail because of that look.

“It’s just, we won the Cup, Geno. I thought after everything we’ve been through the last few years that it wouldn’t happen again, that we would only have the one. And I was fine with that, I really was. But then we won, and that’s, God, that’s everything, and I know you feel the same.”

“Sid—”

“No, just. Please. You’re turning thirty in a few weeks, and I’m just a year behind. If I don’t do this now, when will be the next chance? If I get pregnant now, I can have the baby and still be back in time for the playoffs maybe, especially if we manage another deep run. I—” Sidney takes in a stuttering breath, and he looks so worried, so lost, it’s all Geno can do to keep himself from gathering him into his arms and pepper him with kisses, promising Sidney that whatever is wrong, he will help. It will be okay. Geno will make it okay for him.

“What if I don’t do this now,” Sidney goes on, “and then it will be too late. My body will be too battered and broken and I won’t be able to get pregnant.”

“Don’t know that, Sid,” Geno tries, but Sidney is already shaking his head.

“No, I know that, but I’m not sure I want to take that chance. I just—I can’t get over the what ifs of it.” He walks over to Geno and sits down on the couch next to him, close enough that he’s almost in Geno’s lap.

If any of their teammates walk into the break room, there is no way Geno can explain away how close they’re sitting.

They all know how he feels about Sid.

(Seriously. Fucking Phil.)

“I’m doing this, Geno,” Sidney says, with that quiet resolve that means he’s made a decision and he’s going through with it no matter what. “I’m doing this, with you or someone else. A donor, I guess.” He takes Geno’s hand in his, threads their fingers together and smiles hopefully up at Geno. “I would like for it to be you, though.”

And fucking hell. How is Geno supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” he hears himself say, because Sidney asked and Geno wants this anyway.

It’ll be fine. They can totally do this.


	83. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 1)

I cannot stop laughing about the little girl posing in  that one gif of Claude Giroux , and it keeps making me think about single parent Sid who brings his daughter with him to Worlds and is completely bemused when she takes a liking to Giroux. She’s only five, and she was super excited to be going to Europe with her dad and Uncle Geno (she’s only ever been in the States and Canada, and that’s not exciting  _ at all _ ). Only then she finds out that Uncle Geno isn’t even going to be in the same place as them and little Sophia Crosby is not impressed at all.

“It’s not fair!”

“I know, sweetheart, but this is how it worked out this time.”

Sophia glares at her daddy and munches angrily on her chips. It’s the second of her three allotted midweek treats. 

Daddy laughs at her, crouching down on his hunches and pulling her into a hug. She sighs into it, burrowing her face into her daddy’s neck. She knows she’s being petulant (a word she knows because Uncle Geno calls her that all the time), but every year Uncle Geno goes to Russia for what feels like forever! And Sophia never gets to go, no matter how much she begs her daddy. They were all finally going on a vacation together – like a proper family.

And then now when they are finally in Europe at the same time, they weren’t even in the same place.

“What do you say we call Uncle Geno before going to the rink, eh? You can tell him all about our hotel.”

Sophia brightens at that. The hotel had a pool! Daddy had even said they could go swimming after practice. Uncle Geno would be so jealous!

Talking with Uncle Geno does help. She smiles when he calls her ‘Sofka’, giggles when he sounds appropriately jealous about the pool, and protests loudly when he teases her about how she’s already down to one midweek treat. It’s only Tuesday.

She gets a little sad when they end the call, but then Daddy is bringing her along to the rink and Sophia is too busy being shy to remember how sad she was before. There’s a lot of hockey players there, guys she recognises from TV. They’re big and loud and wearing all the wrong colours. There is so much red.

Daddy squeezes her hand, smiling down at her gently. “You okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay.” She shuffles a little closer to him, but she keeps on her brave face. She’s  _ not _ a baby. “’m not a baby,” she mutters.

Daddy laughs at her. He walks forward on his skate, slowly so she can keep up with him.

“Sidney!” a man greets them. He looks excited. Sophia thinks he’s Daddy’s new coach. Temporary coach. She knows what that means too; Daddy tells her things are temporary all the time – a slump, the summer, the time before she gets to see Uncle Geno again.

“We’re so glad you made it. Really good of you to come! The guys are all excited.”

Daddy smiles at that, the way he does when a reporter says something he doesn’t quite like. “All of them, eh?” he asks, eyes tracking one of the skaters on the ice.

Sophia squints her eyes curiously. She thinks she recognises him. He might be a Flyer; Penguins and Flyers don’t like each other all that much, she knows.

She shuffles closer to Daddy, wrapping her arm around his leg. She’s really starting to not like this place.

Daddy looks down at her, ruffling her hair as if he knows what she’s thinking. He usually does. Maeva and Kody never lets her and Lola in on their pranks, because Sophia will crack the second she sees her daddy, and Lola can never keep a secret. Uncle Duper thinks it’s hilarious.

“Let’s go meet the guys.”

Meeting the guys turns out to be less scary than she thought it would be. They’re all really excited about her daddy being there (he’s the best after all. Uncle Geno says so all the time, so it must be true), and she even knows a couple of them.

“Hey, princess Sophe,” Nate says when he skates up to them. He’s smiling huge and wide, and before Sophia even gets a chance to say hello, she’s being swept into Matty’s arms.

“My one true love!” he says as he skates around in circles, careful not to drop her on the ice. “Have you finally decided to run away with me and get married?” 

Sophia squeals in delight, laughing so hard she almost pees herself. Luckily Daddy rescues her out of Matty’s arms before she can.

Then she’s meeting Tyler, “Call me, Segs,” and Claude Giroux, who looks from her dad to Sophia like nothing makes sense in the world – the way daddy had the last time he met one of Uncle Geno’s girlfriends.

“You have a kid,” Claude Giroux says. “No, I mean, of course I knew that, I’ve just never–” He shakes his head before reaching out a hand to Sophia. “I’m Claude,” he says and shakes her hand very seriously, like she sees adults do all the time. “You must be Sophia.”

His voice doesn’t change and he doesn’t talk to her like she’s a little kid. Sophia likes him.

“You wanna skate a few rounds? I’m sure we can get you some skates.”

Sophia looks up eagerly at her dad. “Can I, Daddy? Can I? Please?”

And well, her daddy is no Uncle Geno; he’s never been very good at denying her.


	84. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired:  
> oh my god can you please tell us about the last time sophia's daddy met one of uncle geno's girlfriends? please please please?

Sophia loves September. Loves it. Not just because it’s her birthday either, but because September means that summer is over and it’s time to come back to Pittsburgh. It means she gets to see all her friends and family, and most importantly of all, it means she gets to see her uncle Geno.

It feels like it’s been especially long since she’s seen him this year.

Even Daddy is excited about seeing Uncle Geno again. Sophia overheard him say so. He’s been on the phone with Uncle Flower a lot, talking about how this year is the year he’s going to tell Uncle Geno how he feels.

Sophia’s not sure exactly what that means or why Daddy would want to tell Uncle Geno how he’s feeling (unless he’s feeling sad. Then she gets it; Uncle Geno gives the best hugs when she’s feeling sad), but Daddy seems happy, so she is too.

They’re both in a good mood on the way to the airport to pick up Uncle Geno. They’re belting out the lyrics to ‘Let It Go’ in the car while they still can. Her uncle can sing most Disney songs like nobody’s business, but he refuses to sing songs from ‘Frozen’. He says the talking snowman freaks him out. Sophia thinks that’s okay. It _is_ a little weird.

“Okay, princess, remember that Uncle Geno has had a long flight, okay? He’s probably very tired, so let’s not overwhelm him, eh?”

Sophia agrees easily enough, but then she hears someone call out, “Sofka!” and she forgets all about her promise to take it easy, tearing her hand out of Daddy’s hold and running towards Uncle Geno’s open arms.

Daddy calls a reprimand after her, but Sophia doesn’t care at all when Uncle Geno closes his arms around her, lifting her into the air before hugging her tight to him. 

“My beautiful little Sofka,” he whispers against her hair, and Sophia wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. It feels good to hear the familiar Russian. She’s missed him  _ so much.  _

“Did you miss me, Sofka?”

She nods silently against his neck; she’s so happy to see him again she can’t even speak. 

Uncle Geno chuckles at her. “Missed you too, princess.” He shifts her in his arms so he can greet Daddy too. “Sid,” he sighs out, sounding all soft and happy, like Grandma does when Grandpa comes home from his fishing trips in the summer.

It makes Sophia smile without really understanding why. She just knows she likes it.

“Hi, Geno. It’s good to see you.”

Daddy laughs when Uncle Geno walks forward to wrap him into a one-armed hug, squishing Sophia between them and making her giggle too.

“Zhenya? Are you going to introduce us?”

Sophia stretches her neck, looking over Uncle Geno’s shoulder to the lady behind him. She’s super pretty. 

“Hello,” she says when she catches Sophia looking. She smiles and that makes her look even prettier. Like a real princess. “You must be Sofka. Your uncle talks about you all the time.” She’s speaking Russian, slower and more careful than she needs to, but Sophia understands her perfectly all the same.

“Geno?” Daddy says, and when Sophia looks back at him, he’s taken a step back, his eyes wide and hands planted firmly in his pockets. Sophia doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like how upset he looks  _ at all _ .

She shimmies down Uncle Geno, turning on her heels and holding her arms up to be held. Her daddy obliges.

Uncle Geno loses his smile for a second, looking at them worriedly, but when he reaches back for the lady’s hand, he grins.

“Sid, Sofka, this my girlfriend, Katya. She come all the way from Russia to see you. I tell her Sid and Sofka Crosby best, so of course she want to meet.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Katya,” Daddy says. He holds one hand out for her to shake. He’s smiling, but it’s bland and there’s no crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

It feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong, but Sophia doesn’t understand why. It’s not as though her daddy doesn’t like Uncle Geno’s new girlfriend; Sophia has seen him with enough players and reporters to know what he looks like when he doesn’t like someone. He likes her fine, but he’s sad.

Meeting Uncle Geno’s girlfriend made him sad.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” she says, later, when he’s putting her to bed, bending to press a kiss to her temple and tucking her in. “Please don’t be sad. Everything is gonna be okay.”

Daddy breathes in shakily, and she can feel his hand trembling when he brushes her dark curls away from her forehead. “I’m fine, baby. I promise. Not sad at all.”

Sophia knows that’s a lie, but she doesn’t want to upset him any further. Daddy tells her all the time that it’s okay to be sad, that if she just be brave and strong then everything will be okay.

She thinks maybe that’s what Daddy is trying to do now.

It’s always better to be brave together, though, Uncle Geno says so, so when Sophia crawls into Daddy’s bed later that night, he doesn’t tell her she’s getting too old for this and make her go back to bed. Instead, he just pulls her close and presses his face into her curls.

They can be sad together for a while.


	85. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired: "ok but now that you made everyone sad, can you make everyone happy again? please? :D?"
> 
> So the last Sophia snippet may have been a little…okay, it was sad, fine. Much sadness :P So let’s speed ahead a little and go back to Worlds^^

“And you won’t let her out of your sight?”

“Of course not.”

“And you won’t let her eat anything strawberry related? She’s allergic to–”

“To strawberries. Yes, I know. You’ve only said it twenty times.”

Sophia looks between her daddy and Mr. G, clutching her teddy to her chest in nervous anticipation. She wants so badly to go to the zoo (they had tigers!), but Daddy had an interview scheduled before the game tonight and couldn’t take her, so Mr. G had volunteered. 

She’d rather go with Daddy, but she understands how busy he is, and besides, Mr. G is pretty cool. He sneaks her chocolate when Daddy is not looking.

Daddy sighs, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip as he looks between them. Finally, he relents. “I swear to God, Claude, if anything happens to her…” Daddy trails off, and Mr. G rolls his eyes at him.

He does that. Sophia doesn’t get them at all. They’ve been in Prague for a week already, and she’s pretty sure they’re not friends (Mr. G is a Flyer, after all), but they’re always polite to each other – or Daddy is anyway, the same way he is with reporters sometimes. 

Mr. G just rolls his eyes a lot.

“Look, Croz, I’m actually pretty good with kids, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to her. We’ll be fine,” Mr. G says, patting Daddy hard on the back. “Just relax. We’ll be fine. Segs said he’d come too.”

Daddy pinches the bridge of his nose, looking pained at the mention of Segs.

Sophia giggles. She likes Segs. He’s always happy and very excited about her daddy. He reminds her a lot of Beau

“Okay, fine. You can take her, just- just be careful, please.” Daddy bends to lift her up into his arms, hugging her tight to him. “You be a good girl, okay?” he whispers into her hair. “If you need anything or just want to talk, you call me.” He pulls back, shifting her onto one hip so he can tap the little flip phone attached to the strap around her neck.

Sophia grins at him. “I’ll be fine, Daddy,” she says, mushing his face between her hands. She giggles at the way it purses his lips.

“Okay, smarty pants,” Daddy says, laughing as he pulls his head out of her grip. He’s smiling, but Sophia can see the worry in his eyes. He wouldn’t let Mr. G take her to the zoo if he didn’t trust him to keep her safe, but Daddy’s usual list of people he trusts to take care of her is pretty short (Uncle’s Geno’s is even shorter), and letting her go off with people not on that list makes him nervous. 

“Sidney,” one of the Team Canada people says. “I’m sorry, but we really need to get going. They’re waiting for you.”

Daddy sighs, tightening his grip on Sophia before putting her back on the ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Sophia says. She hugs him around the waist, smiling when Daddy says he loves her and to be good before ruffling her hair and walking off with the Team Canada person.

Mr. G stares after them before turning to look down at her. “Okay, kiddo,” he says. “Let’s just not get eaten by a tiger or something, okay? Your dad would kill me if something happened to you.” 

“Oh no,” Sophia says, beaming up at Mr. G. “He would let Uncle Geno do it. He’s much more scarier.”

Mr. G says a very bad word.


	86. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "I am so charmed by your Sophia Crosby AU and that family hug in the second chapter hit me right in the soul. Are you planning a Geno POV? I want to know who Sophia's other parent is, why they don't seem to be in her life, and how much like or unlike Sid she is and Sophia can't tell us that. I want to see their little family from a grown-up POV because there seem to be hints of more painful pining than the standard S&G fic. Also, do Sid and Sophia have the same initials?"
> 
> I’m so glad you like this verse! I hadn’t really been planning another POV than Sophia’s, but since you’re asking, I guess I can give you a snippet of Geno’s POV before Sophia is born ;)

Sidney comes back from the Olympics not only with a gold medal around his neck, but with a bun in the oven.

Jordy and Max almost kill themselves laughing when they find out.

Zhenya, not so much.

(It takes him a very long time to realise that he is angry about that. Not that Sidney got pregnant – Zhenya could never resent Sophia – but that Sidney got pregnant without Zhenya. He missed his window of opportunity.)

Sidney spends about two weeks freaking out about the pregnancy and the having to give up hockey for a while and the fact that his baby daddy is already married with kids before he buckles down and fucking  _ embraces  _ the situation – the amount of back rubs and foot massages he demands of his teammates is obscene. Also, Zhenya has never seen anyone eat so much ice cream.

(The Pens have a freezer at the Igloo now for when Sidney comes around.)

When Sidney lets it slip who the father is, Seryozha plies Zhenya with so much alcohol it dulls his murderous rage and the sudden impulse to jump a plane to Philly and beat the shit out of the son of a bitch.

Apparently, the bastard wants nothing to do with Sid or the baby. He is already happily married, and besides, the Olympics had just been a bit of fun, nothing more.

Sidney doesn’t seem to be too heartbroken over it; he’s always been very practical, and it’s not like he’s in love with the guy or anything. Sidney buckles down and decides that he’s gonna be the best damn single parent there ever was, but he still shouldn’t have to do this alone, Zhenya thinks, and promptly asks him to marry him.

“No,” Sidney says. He doesn’t even look up from his tub of Ben and Jerry’s peanut butter cup ice cream. Zhenya is a little insulted to be honest.

“Why not? I’m be best husband.  _ Best! _ ” he emphasises at Max and Jordy’s snickering, shifting his eyes to glare at them pointedly. Maybe proposing to Sid in the middle of the Pens’ break room had been a mistake. Zhenya can see that now.

“I’m sure you would.”

“Then why not?”

Sidney licks at his spoon, his generous mouth wrapping around the metal as if he’s making love to the damn thing.

Zhenya is a little vindicated by the knowledge that he is not the only one staring; he can hear Jordy choking on nothing but air.

“First,” Sid says, dumping his spoon back into the little tub on his lap, “Your thing with Oksana is more than a little complicated; I’m not getting in the middle of that.” He finally deigns to look at Zhenya, holding up two fingers as he lists off, “Second, you’re very sweet, but you wouldn’t be proposing if I wasn’t pregnant. And third.” He holds up a third finger, wiggling them in Zhenya’s direction. “I’m only twenty-two, why would I want to get married?”

Zhenya sputters. 

“But you having a baby!” he says, ignoring all of Sidney’s very sound points.

Sidney sighs, struggling to push off his chair and sending Max a death glare when the man tries to help him, because pregnant Sid is no less stubborn than regular Sid.

“Geno,” he says when he’s managed to climb to his feet. He walks over to where Zhenya is draped over the breakfast bar, reaching out to grab his face between his hands so he can force their eyes to meet. “You’re a good friend, okay? The best. But I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armour. I’ll be fine.” 

Zhenya stares at him, at his pretty hazel eyes and the healthy glow that all pregnant people seem to have. He looks lovely, beautiful even, and maybe if things were different, if there had been no Oksana and no baby, maybe Zhenya would have–

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Sidney smiles at him, pleased and a little sweet. He ducks his head to press a gentle kiss to Zhenya’s cheek, and they both ignore Max and Jordy as they catcall in the background – Zhenya seriously needs some new friends, jesus.

“You can come with me to my next check up though, if you want to,” Sidney offers. He’s grinning, obviously excited as he says, “I get to find out the baby’s sex then.”

Zhenya goes.

(It’s a girl.)


	87. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tigrasevaddict inquired: "You have killed me with the prompt and the sequel about Sophia it's make me so sad that i had after to read some other fics where everything finish really good."
> 
> D: Oh no! Here, have something a bit more joyous ^_^

Sophia’s first word is, “Nonno.”

Sidney is so startled he freezes mid-step, looking down at his daughter in astonishment. 

She’s not even eight months old yet, and Sidney has been assured by his mother and Nathalie and basically every other parent he knows that her babbled “Da-da,” is not so much an attempt at Daddy as it is part of her random baby talk. Apparently, she won’t recognise words and ascribe meaning to them just yet.

But when Sophia drags her gaze away from where she’s been looking around the locker room and focuses her eyes on Sidney, beaming up at him as she exclaims again, “Nonno!”, she is so very clearly expecting him to know what she’s talking about. She is saying a word, he is sure of it.

He thinks at first she means ‘no’, but when she turns her head to look back into the locker room, straining out of his hold as she reaches her little arms out to be held, he realises she’s trying to say ‘Geno’.

Geno does too. He stares at them from where he’s sitting at his stall, his jaw loose and his eyes so comically wide it takes away some of the jealous sting of his daughter’s first word being ‘Geno’ instead of ‘Daddy’.

“Is she–?” Geno stutters, and when Sophia brightens at the sound of his voice, crying out, “Nonno!” loud enough for some of the other guys to notice, he’s up and striding across the room a second later, stealing her right out of Sidney’s arms and lifting her into the air.

Sidney forgets to be jealous at all when the two beam at each other (there’s really no other way to describe it), Geno grinning wide and unleashing a string of pleased Russian, Sophia nodding in response and saying, “Nonno!” with giddy pleasure at even intervals.

It’s adorable, and when Geno brings her close to pepper proud kisses all over her tiny face, Sophia squealing in delight all the while, Sidney can feel what has become a familiar pressure in his chest, a surge of  _ warmth _ and  _ love _ and  _ family _ rushing through him as he watches them together.

Geno is completely blind to his surroundings, as he often is when Sophia is within ten feet of him, and Flower takes advantage of his distraction. He sidles up next to Sidney, giving him a friendly nudge before nodding at the mutual love fest going on in front of them.

“You okay with this? I know first words are meant to be special.”

Sidney sighs, but he’s smiling, can’t help it, really. “Yeah. There are worse words than ‘Nonno’, I suppose. Besides, just look at them, it’s hard to be disappointed at that.” He gestures towards where Geno is cooing at Sophia happily.

Flower snickers. “At least it wasn’t a swearword,” he says, because it will never not be hilarious that little Zoe Dupuis’ first word had been ‘fuck’. 

Duper had been in the proverbial dog house for months afterwards.

Sidney laughs. “Can’t argue with that.”

“How are you feeling. You skating with us today?”

“I feel good, man,” Sidney says, nodding. He tears his eyes away from his daughter and his – whatever it is Geno is to him these days – to look at Flower properly. “Doc says I’m cleared for contact and everything. I get to play in the playoffs!” Sidney grins, feeling excited at the prospect of finally getting to play professional hockey again.

He’s been out for so long with the pregnancy and then the time it took to regain the conditioning of his pre-pregnant body, and while he will never, _ not ever _ , regret his daughter, Sidney’s return has been a long time coming.

Flower claps him on the shoulder, grinning at him. “About time, mon ami. I’m so happy for you.”

“Sid!” 

They turn to see Geno holding out Sophia for Sid, face turned a little to the side and his nose scrunched up in disgust. 

“I’m think is time for change. Not smell so good right now,” he says, looking at Sidney expectantly, because as good a babysitter he is and despite how much he adores her, Geno refuses to change Sophia’s diapers. He can’t stand the smell and he gags if he actually sees its contents.

Sidney would force him to change at least one of those bad boys if he wasn’t so afraid that Geno would literally throw up on her.

It’s possible. Sidney has heard the stories.

“All right, sweetheart, come to Daddy,” he says, accepting his little girl into his arms. He smiles at her lovingly, even as Flower reels back from the rank smell, looking at Sophia with horror-struck eyes.

“How?” he gasps out, pinching his nose shut and waving at the air in front of him ineffectually.

Geno nods knowingly, throwing his arm around Flower’s shoulder before towing him away. 

“This one time, she smell so bad I’m–” Sidney hears him begin as they exit the locker room, leaving Sidney behind to deal with Sophia’s dirty diaper.

Traitors.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, kiddo,” he tells her.

Sophia beams at him. “Nonno!” she says with conviction, and gives him a toothless grin. 


	88. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "I so love your Sophia verse!!!!! :) When did Geno get so involved - after Sid had Sophia or back when he was still pregnant? Was Geno there when Sid went into labor?"
> 
> Thank you so much! He mostly got involved after he was allowed to join Sid for that one ultrasound, and this is what happened when Sid went into labour. 

Zhenya is still in Russia when he gets Flower’s text.

_ Sid’s water broke. Get your ass back here. _

It’s September and he’s not due back in Pittsburgh for another week; Sidney is not due for another couple of  _ months _ .

Zhenya spends about fifteen minutes freaking the fuck out before Oksana manages to calm him down enough to get the info out of him: Sidney is in labour two months too soon and Zhenya needs to get his ass on a plane yesterday _. _

She packs an overnight bag for him while he books his ticket, promising to ship the rest of his stuff before giving him a loud smack on the mouth and shoving him out the door.

(It’s the last time she kisses him; Zhenya will only ever remember it fondly, despite everything.)

He’s cursing everything under the sun when he gets on the plane and in the air. He curses the plane for moving too slowly, the distance between Moscow and Pittsburgh, himself for listening to Sidney when he told him he was fine,  _ go back to Russia. Enjoy your summer. I’m not due until November anyway, that’s plenty of time for you to come back. _

He’s pissed at himself for going, pissed at Sidney for going into labour too soon (he’ll yell at Zhenya about that later, logically pointing out he didn’t have much control of that), and pissed that he’s going to miss the birth of his pseudo-niece.

But then he finally arrives in Pittsburgh, gets Flower to come pick him up at the airport and drive him straight to the hospital, and is astonished to discover that Sidney is  _ still  _ in labour.

Going on thirty-seven hours now.

Zhenya, because he’s an idiot, kisses Sidney’s sweaty cheek and thanks him for holding it in.

He’s promptly evicted from the room.

“You’re an idiot,” Flower tells him, shaking his head at him sadly. “Have you no clue?”

“Yes,” Zhenya agrees. In retrospect he can see how that maybe wasn’t the smartest thing to say. He is still grateful he gets to be there, though.

That is until about three hours later, when Sidney has been in labour for forty hours and his voice is raw from all the moaning and screaming he’s done.

Zhenya is about to go out of his mind with worry and fear, feeling worse every time his eyes meet Flower’s, seeing his thoughts reflected back at him.

_ This isn’t normal. Something is seriously wrong. _

The doctors must agree, because as they begin creeping into the forty-first hour, Sidney is rushed into surgery.

Zhenya has never known time to move so slowly, never been so afraid in his life.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Troy, who’d also made the trip to Pittsburgh and had been allowed into the OR, comes out to greet them. The relief is stark on his face as he announces, “The baby is okay. She’s fine. They’re taking her to the NICU and she’ll have to stay in an isolette for a while, but she’s okay.”

Flower is whooping in joy, slapping Zhenya hard on the back, but Zhenya is still too worried about Sid to celebrate yet.

“And Sidney?” he breathes out. “Sid okay too, right?”

Troy loses some of his smile, but he’s nodding, saying, “Yes. He lost a lot of blood, and it might take him a while to recover, but he’s going to be just fine.”

Finally, Zhenya can breathe easy. “Can I see him?” he pleads, and all but pushes Troy ahead of him as he is led into Sidney’s room.

“I’m going to go check on the baby,” Troy tells him.

Zhenya barely hears him, waving his hand at him absently as he moves closer to where Sidney is sleeping on the bed. He looks pale and small.

Smaller than Zhenya has ever seen him.

He doesn’t like it.

He settles in the chair next to Sid’s bed, reaching out to brush an unruly curl away from his forehead.

Sidney wrinkles his nose at the touch, his eyes moving behind his lids before they flutter open, taking a while before he manages to focus on Zhenya.

“Baby?”

Zhenya smiles at him softly. “Baby is fine. She in NICU.” He lets his fingers trail down his face, gently stroking across the cut of Sidney’s cheekbone. “Had a baby, Sid! Did good,” he praises and leans forward to peck his lips, the kiss dry and quick. “So proud.”

Sidney smiles tiredly, his eyes already slipping shut again. “Yeah?” he asks. “Did you get to see her yet? How she look?”

Zhenya shakes his head. “No. I’m wait for you. We see her together, okay?”

Sidney smacks his lips, his breathing already evening out as he says, “Together.”

(When they first see her, it’s behind the glass of the isolette and she’s hooked up to a number of tubes and wires. They don’t even get to hold her, but she is, unequivocally, the most beautiful thing either of them have ever seen.

It’s the first time Zhenya feels true, unconditional love, and he isn’t even her father.

He thinks,  _ oh _ .)


	89. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> itsmyrighttobehellish inquired: "So what would it take to convince you to write a snippet in the Sophia!verse where Sid's trying to get over Geno with another man and Sophia and/or Geno react? :D? If you think that's something that would happen, that is!"
> 
> Not much convincing needed, tbh ;) Hm, I’m not sure that Sid would date to get over Geno, specifically, but certainly there has been the occasional man in his life and only one he was serious about enough to introduce to Sophia. 

Sophia doesn’t really remember it. She was only little at the time, but Uncle Duper will sometimes talk about that one guy from years ago who’d wanted to marry her daddy.

She thinks it means that man would have been her daddy too, but she’s not sure and she doesn’t want to ask Daddy about it. It makes him sad to think about. He never says so, but Sophia can tell.

(Uncle Geno, for some reason, gets angry when it comes up. She knows better than to ask him.)

She’d like to have two daddies, she thinks. Maybe Daddy wouldn’t be so lonely then, if he had a boyfriend. He has her and Uncle Geno most of the time, but Uncle Geno leaves for Russia in the summers and as much as she loves her daddy, she knows it’s not the same.

Uncle Duper says everything will make more sense when she gets older, but Sophia already understands that. Besides, she’s nearly  _ five _ . Practically a grown up.

“Hey, mini me. What’cha doin’? Your dad is looking for you, you know.”

Sophia giggles at the nickname (so given because of her likeness to her daddy, she’s told), preening at being one of the guys; she knows people only get nicknamed if other people like them. It makes her feel part of the team even if she doesn’t get to play.

Because it’s a boy’s team and she’s a girl, and also because she isn’t old enough, Claude had told her, and then said he thinks she would probably have kicked everyone’s ass though, before being yelled at by daddy for saying a bad word. Again.

She looks up at Segs, shuffling a little to the side to make space for him on the bench. “Choosing a boyfriend for daddy.”

Segs stares at her. He turns his head to look out on the ice where the Czech team is practicing before looking back at her. “What?”

Sophia waits until he collapses onto the bench next to her. She kicks her feet back and forth in the air as she points out one of the players on the ice. She knows him well.

“Grandpa Mario says JJ would be a good husband,” she explains, and then wrinkles her nose. “If he stops chasing skirts?” She’s still not sure what that means.

Segs makes a weird noise at that, and Sophia has to pat his back to help him through his sudden coughing fit.

“Let me get this right,” he wheezes out. “Mario Lemieux,  _ the  _ Mario Lemieux, thinks Jaromir Jagr would make a good husband if he just–” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he shakes his head, muttering something about not getting involved with that.

“I think maybe Jagr is a little old for your dad, mini me. You should maybe look for someone younger,” he advises. He pulls a face. “Why are you doing this anyway? Trust me, your dad needs no help in getting a boyfriend. He does plenty okay on his own.” 

Sophia stops kicking her legs, looking down at her lap. She’s wearing an orange skirt over her white tights. Claude says it makes her look like a Flyer.

“Sophia D. says kids should have two parents.”

“Sophia D.,” Segs says, rolling his eyes. “Is a busybody like her father. They’re Spezzas, mini me. They like to meddle. Don’t you listen to her.”

Sophia looks up at him hopefully. “Really?”

Segs nods seriously, reaching out to bop her nose playfully. “Really,” he says. “And anyway, you can’t marry your dad off to the Czech. We’re Canadians! It’d be treason!”

He helps her off the bench, pausing to let her wave goodbye to JJ before taking her hand and guiding her back to the gym where Team Canada is working out.

“Tell you what, mini me, why don’t you come hang out in our room tonight? Claude and I can help you pick out a proper Canadian for your dad.” 

Sophia swings their hand, grinning as she says, “I don’t think Claude will like that.” Claude always pretends to not like her daddy, though Sophia knows he thinks he’s okay. He keeps saying he doesn’t understand how someone as cool as Sophia can have such a boring dad. 

She doesn’t get their weird friendship at all, but she thinks they’re pretty funny.

Segs matches her grin, winking at her cheerfully. “We’ll trick him into it. Tell him we’re watching ‘Ratatouille’.”

Claude  _ loves ‘ _ Ratatouille’, she knows. They’ve already seen it two times since she and Daddy came to Prague.

_ “ _ Okay!” she says, and thinks if anyone can help her find a boyfriend for Daddy, it will be Claude and Segs. __

  
  



	90. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired:  
> but who is the boyfriend that claude and segs and sophia find for her dad????? you can't just leave it there!

_ Dude _ . Okay, okay, first. Claude is absolutely certain that he doesn’t give a shit who would be an acceptable boyfriend for Croz of all people,  _ Jesus fucking Christ. _ But. 

Sophia is kind of awesome and she likes wearing Flyers’ colours, which is both priceless and hilarious for obvious reasons – Claude is obviously not going to let just anybody end up as her potential dad.

Not if he has anything to say about it.

Which he does. He has a lot to say about it, actually, because Segs will not shut up about the great and honourable Jamie Benn.

It’d be kind of sweet if it wasn’t for Segs’ obvious crush on the man and the way he is listing up all the things  _ he  _ thinks makes Jamie Benn the most perfect boyfriend to ever boyfriend. 

Segs thinks he’s doing Croz a solid, that he’s found him the perfect man, but for every new virtue he brings up, he gets less and less enthused, until it’s just sad. And pathetic.

Claude has no idea what he’s done in life to deserve being surrounded by such oblivious idiots. Cosmic payback for grabbing that cop’s ass, probably.

“Uhm, Segs,” Sophia says hesitantly. She meets Claude’s eyes for a second, hers wide and huge. She’s all eyes, that one. “I don’t think Daddy and Mr. Jamie is a good fit.”

“ _ Are _ ,” Claude corrects absently, but he’s nodding his head in agreement. She’s a smart cookie, even if she is a Crosby.

Segs, though, the idiot, is immediately offended.

“Why not?” he demands. “Jamie is a great guy. The best. Your dad would only be so lucky!” he says fiercely.

“Uhm.”

“Think it through, Segs,” Claude says. He throws an empty bag of chips in the direction of his head, huffing in annoyance when it falls uselessly to the floor between the beds. “They’d have to do long distance, which would suck for everyone involved.”

“What’s long distance mean?” Sophia asks, and then leans around Claude to look at the chips bag on the floor. “You should pick that up. Garbage goes in the trash,” she recites with the air of someone who has been told so a number of times before.

Poor kid, Claude thinks. Crosby would be a neat freak.

“Uncle Geno says a little mess is all you need to make a big mess.”

Claude stares as she crawls to the edge of the bed, swinging down to the floor before grabbing the bag and throwing it in the trash.

Suddenly, he’s thinking it’s not Crosby who’s the neat freak.

Which, interesting.

“Long distance is when a couple who’s in a relationship live far away from each other,” he explains.

“I guess Dallas to Pittsburgh is pretty far,” Segs says from the other bed, but Claude easily ignores him, eyes narrowed on Sophia as she makes her way back to her spot next to him.

He waits until she’s nestled up against his side before he says, “You’re pretty close with your uncle Geno, aren’t you?”

Sophia beams up at him. “Uh huh! Uncle Geno is the best!”

Claude hums. “He spend a lot of time with you? And your dad?”

“He’s in Russia during the summers, but almost every day during the season.” 

She’s grinning, happy and bright. She obviously doesn’t think it’s a big deal that Malkin is such a huge part of her life, and Claude’s mind is spinning. He’s remembering snippets from dozens of conversations, with Sophia, with Croz. He remembers pictures he’s seen on sports blogs or clips from the Pens’ season on NHL Network.

He must have seen it countless times over the years: Malkin with a hand on Croz’s back and Sophia on his hip. He remembers that one clip he’d seen, where Croz had looked at them from over his shoulder, the look in his eyes–

Idiots. They’re all oblivious idiots, and Claude is surrounded by them.

He hums. “Hey, mini me, when’s your uncle Geno coming to Prague? You talked to him on the phone earlier, didn’t you?”

“Tomorrow. Sanja too! He’s super funny and he always brings presents,” she says happily.

It takes him a second to figure out that ‘Sanja’ is actually Ovechkin. 

Now there is a guy who is almost as awesome as Claude. Good. This is good. Ovi will definitely be up for some matchmaking.

“Excellent,” he says, a wide grin spreading over his face, and from his side of the room, Segs is eying him warily.

Segs is only right to be wary, Claude thinks delightedly. He has plans and Segs fits into them nicely.

It’s going to be epic.

“All right, mini me. We’ll get your dad a boyfriend. Don’t you worry about that.”


	91. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "do you think we could a Sophia Crosby update sometime later in the week please?"
> 
> I was thinking of letting this wait until next week sometime, but I’ll be on holiday then and posting (if I manage to get to it at all) will probably be scattered. Besides! You’ve caught me in a good mood! So! I will tell you about the first time Ovi met Sophia…

Sophia is already born when Ovi throws him a surprise baby shower. It’s a roaring success in that everyone is surprised.

Somehow, they manage to keep her birth a secret from the media, and, astonishingly, Sophia spends two weeks in the hospital before Sidney is allowed to bring her home – all without a single reporter finding out. Not even Rob Rossi, who’s been covering his pregnancy near religiously in an attempt to discover the identity of his ‘baby daddy’.

(Sidney gets a special kind of pleasure out of that. Not that he’ll admit to it.)

The Washington Capitals are in town for a pre-season game, arriving a day early, and when Sidney tags along to the rink with Geno to what is supposed to be a Penguins practice, they’re forced to a halt outside their locker room by the group of guys blocking the entrance.

“What’s going on?”

Flower turns at the sound of Sidney’s voice, elbowing first Brooksie and then Duper to make a gap in the crowd for Sid and Geno to step through.

“I think,” Flower says, “I think Ovechkin threw you a baby shower?”

“A baby shower?” Sid asks sceptically, and is about to say how dumb that is when he actually gets to look inside the room and holy shit! It looks as though a baby shop threw up in there. “Oh.”

There’s huge pink and blue balloons everywhere, and stuffed animals taking up what seems like every available surface. It’s got to be the biggest collection of stuffed toys Sidney has ever seen outside an actual store.

In the middle of the room there is a long table set up, littered with wrapped gifts and various snacks; most notably a large double tier chocolate cake, Sidney sees, and feels himself get marginally more interested.

Behind the table is a group of Caps players, Ovi at the centre, of course, holding court to what looks like a bunch of resigned, long-suffering guys. Only Semin seems properly invested, which Sidney thinks is more conditioning than actual interest.

Ovi, who’s been standing with his back to the entrance and therefore hasn’t seen Sid and Geno arrive, only spins around when Semin notices Sidney, eyes growing wide as he takes in the baby sleeping in the baby sling Sid has wrapped around his torso.

“Eh, Sanja,” he says, pointing, and Ovi follows his gaze, a large grin on his face.

“Sidney!” he exclaims joyfully, and then stops to stare. And stare some more.

“Sidney,” he says again, slowly, “whose baby is that?”

Next to him, Geno pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath in Russian.

Sidney only recognises ‘Ovechkin’ and ‘idiot’.

“Mine.” It’s rather obvious, he thinks.

“But you are pregnant.”

Sidney blinks. “I was. Not anymore.” He gestures at Sophia, gently so as not to wake her. She’s tiny, but she’s got a set of lungs on her. “Hence the baby.”

Ovi sighs the sigh of the truly put upon, as if Sophia’s premature birth is a great inconvenience to him.

“But I’m throwing you a baby shower! A  _ surprise _ baby shower.”

Sidney thinks he can see a hint of a pout, and wonders if Ovi isn’t a little annoyed that things aren’t going according to plan.

“We even bring gifts!”

“Yes, I can see that,” Sidney says, looking over the table again, eyes lingering on the chocolate cake. “I appreciate that, I do.” And he does. It is a really sweet gesture, even if Sid thinks Ovi has done it more for the recognition than of any real kindness. He looks at the other Caps, lips twitching into a wry smile.

“Sophia was born two weeks ago. I already have everything I need for her.”

Ovi looks devastated, though his teammates seem to take it in stride. 

“We can probably donate it,” Backstrom muses, looking at the gifts, and that’s a good idea actually.

Sidney brightens. “Oh, would you really? You don’t want to return it? Get your money back?”

Backstrom grins at him. “I think I can spare the cash,” he says good-naturedly.

“Fine,” Ovi grumbles. “We donate presents to charity. I will have our PR people take care of it,” he says importantly, and Sidney only nods, thinking it’s better to let him have this.

“Does this mean we can have our locker room back now?” Tanger asks from somewhere in the crowd behind him, and suddenly the room explodes into a flurry of activity as the Caps move out and the Pens move in – with Ovi in the middle as usual, overseeing the relocation of the gifts.

Sidney makes sure to keep an eye on what they do with the chocolate cake, and resolves to get a slice later when he sees an intern from the front office take ownership of it.

“Hey,” he says when the cake is out of sight but Ovi is not. “Come here, come meet her.”

He waits until Ovi has made his way over to him before he shifts on his feet, turning so Ovi can see Sophia’s sleeping face.

Ovi stares at her with a hushed sort of awe. He glances up quickly at Sid and then Geno (ever present) before his gaze is drawn back to the baby.

“She’s so tiny!”

She’s still smaller than she should be, but the doctors have told him she should catch up soon enough. Sidney isn’t worried about it. Much.

“Yeah,” he says. “She was born two months too soon. Preemies are like that.”

Ovi seems not to have heard him, too enraptured with Sophia. Sidney grins, sharing a knowing look with Geno; they’ve literally spent hours just staring at her.

“She is so beautiful,” Ovi says, hushed, and Sidney preens until he continues, “don’t know how she came from you.”

Geno slaps the back of his head, barking out something in Russian. “Idiot,” he says and starts herding him out of the locker room. “Go find teammates now, before they take chance and leave without you.”

“They would never!” Ovi declares loyally, but he lets himself be moved easily enough. He glances back at Sidney, stopping only long enough to say, “Baby shower was maybe a bust, but baby should still have present! I will find perfect gift and ship it to you!”

“That’s not necessary!” Sidney calls after him, but Ovi only cackles, walking away without another word. Sidney looks at Geno. “He won’t, will he?”

Geno shakes his head, grinning. “Is Sanja. Probably will.”

Sidney is suddenly a little wary. Ovi never does anything in moderation.

“But he won’t do something crazy, right?” he asks hopefully.

His hopes are dashed, though, when Geno’s grin widens, eyes sparkling as he repeats, “Is Sanja. Probably will.”


	92. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 10)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "hey its the sophia crosby anon. i think it can be anything, any sid and geno and sophia story is cool"
> 
> Okay! One Sophia snippet coming right up XDD

Sanja is, naturally, the most attractive man in any room. This is a truth universally acknowledged, he feels. There has never been a time Sanja has failed to gotten laid, wherever with whomever.

There is only one exception to this otherwise inviolable rule:

A man with a baby is a chick magnet unlike anything Sanja has ever seen. Men, women, doesn’t matter. They all flock to a dude with a kid, Sanja has learnt.

That Zhenya, the hopeless idiot, has never taken advantage of this golden opportunity, is a great tragedy.

It takes him a while to figure out why Zhenya doesn’t hit up any of the babes (seriously, they’re so hot. All of them gorgeous and way out of Zhenya’s league) falling all over him when they see him with Sophia in his arms. It’s completely coincidental, but Sanja, up until Sophia turns around three, rarely sees Zhenya with Sid and the kid. It’s always just Zhenya and the kid when Sanja comes around.

(Zhenya says it’s because Sid is still pissed off about the incident with the pony and can’t stand to be around him, but that’s obviously a lie, so.)

Zhenya does have girlfriends over the years, though they never last very long, which means Sanja doesn’t make the connection until one of his spontaneous (and not at all dreaded) visits to Pittsburgh coincides with Sophia’s birthday. Zhenya’s been coming back to the city earlier than is his wont ever since Sophia was born. He’s never once missed her birthday and always makes a big deal out of it, and Sanja wants to get in on this shindig. 

(He also figures that three years is enough time gone by for Sid to have cooled down about the pony incident.)

It takes Sanja about 0.3 seconds after entering Sidney’s home to see Zhenya calming down a flustered and stressed-looking Sid to realise the two are deeply, madly and irrevocably in love with each other. And absolutely oblivious.

Idiots.

Sanja, out of the goodness of his heart and for the sake of his goddaughter (“You are  _ not  _ her godfather, Alex! Stop telling people you are!”) has been trying to matchmake them ever since with varying degrees of success.

So when Claude Giroux, of all people, flags him down when Team Russia checks into their hotel in Prague, Sanja is first suspicious (he’s a Flyer, after all), and then completely onboard when given a rundown of the situation.

“What’s your stake in this? What do you care if they together or not? Thought you hate Sid.” Sanja narrows his eyes at Giroux, trying to work out his angle, watching as he shrugs carelessly before his eyes slide over to where Zhenya is reuniting with Sid and Sophia. Sophia is clinging to Zhenya’s neck like a monkey. 

It’s disgustingly cute.

“No stake,” Giroux hedges, shifting uneasily on his feet. “And it’s not like I hate Croz, okay. He’s just not my favourite person.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look,” Giroux says, scowling at Sanja’s doubtful look. “Sophia’s awesome, okay? And she’s too scared to mess things up so she won’t say anything, but all she really wants is for her dad and Malkin to be together. I’m doing this for her.”

Sanja would voice his perfectly reasonable scepticism that Giroux would be so invested after only two weeks of hanging out with his little Sofka, but she really _is_ that awesome. She’s his goddaughter after all. 

“Okay. What’s your plan?”

“Uncle Sanja!”

They’re interrupted by Sophia’s excited voice, and Sanja looks down as her tiny body crashes into his legs. He bends down to sweep her into his arms, looking over her shoulder as he settles her on his hip to see Zhenya and Sid staring at each other, equally besotted.

Seriously. Idiots.

“Did you bring me presents?” Sophia asks excitedly, staring up at him with her wide eyes. Same colour as her daddy.

“I did! But I have them in my bag. Why don’t you ask your daddy if it’s okay to steal you for lunch and you can open presents then. Say I still remember no strawberries.” He winks at her as she shimmies out of his hold, giving Giroux a quick, “Hi, Claude!” before she takes off across the lobby towards Sid and Zhenya.

“Lunch?” Giroux lifts an eyebrow at him.

Sanja grins. “You come too. Tell me about plan.”

Giroux looks over at where Sophia is conferring with her dad and Zhenya. They’re huddled close together, looking like a proper family, Sanja thinks.

“All right,” Giroux says, and sounds only a little resigned. 

Sanja doesn’t know why. He’s awesome.

“But we’ll need Segs. He’s part of this plan.”


	93. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> werewolfzero inquired: Something I've been wondering about in Sophie verse- how did Sid and Geno go from kissing at her birth to 3 years later and Geno showing up with a girlfriend?

Weeeell, they weren’t really  _ kissing  _ kissing at her birth as it was Geno being overcome with emotion and giving Sid a peck on the lips as two close people are wont to do. This is a part that hasn’t been written yet, but my headcanon is that after Geno started getting involved in the pregnancy, he and Sid grew super close. Like, they were already good friends, but Geno has always had a little bit of an undefined crush on Sid (nothing concrete, just whoa he’s hot, whoa his hockey is hot, whoa) but there’s never been feelings involved, right? 

And Geno has had Oksana during that time, so there was never going to be any romance between them at that point. 

Geno knows this, but as they grow closer and he gets to know Sid in a way he doesn’t think Sid has allowed anybody else to know him in a long time, the lines between friendship starts growing a little blurry on Geno’s part, and he has to keep reminding himself over and over again that Sidney is just his friend, a brother, really, and his child will be Geno’s niece.

It works. Up until a point.

He uses the excuse of familiarity to justify their closeness and the easy touches between them, and just forces himself not to think about Sidney in any other way than his really, really good friend. 

It’s not helped by the fact that his ever volatile relationship with Oksana is more rocky than usual these days, and Geno seeks a distraction from it in Sidney and his pregnancy.

He thinks it would help if Oksana was there with him, if she’d just move to Pittsburgh Geno wouldn’t be spending so much time with Sid, but he recognises the excuse for what it is and feels like a jerk every time the thought crosses his mind.

Oksana is beautiful and strong and intelligent and she’s never  _ needed _ Geno for anything; he sort of likes that Sidney does, if only with the pregnancy. They’d both beat him over the head if they knew what he was thinking, but he can’t help it. He likes being useful, likes being the hero, and Oksana has never needed or wanted that from him.

She’s always been stronger than anyone else he knows.

She’s always been smarter than him too. She must have seen the writing on the wall even before Geno comes home that summer. For two months, he is absolutely useless, too distracted by his worry for Sid and the baby. It’s like his body is there, hanging out with his friends and family, but his mind is firmly back in Pittsburgh, with Sidney and the little girl that is yet to be born. 

It had taken him three weeks longer than usual before he even got his ass on a plane to Russia this time, and finally, it had been Sid that had to tell him,  _ Go. It’s fine. There’s plenty of time for you to come back before the baby is born. I’ll be fine. _

It’s probably the worst summer break of his life, which of course means it’s the best his relationship has ever been with Oksana. For once, there are no spectacular fights leading to spectacular make up sex. There is no constant hum of annoyance under his skin that she  _ again _ refuses to move to Pittsburgh with him. There are no tense conversations with cutting words and an undercurrent of a thousand things they should have said a long, long time ago.

For the first time, Geno understands. She has a life in Russia, one that is no less worth or significant than the one he lives in Pittsburgh. He’s been selfish to make her want to give that up, more selfish than she’s ever deserved.

He thinks he knew, even before he got Flower’s text to come home –  _ Sid’s water broke. Get your ass back here –  _ that this would be his last summer with Oksana. He thinks they both did. 

He gets a call from her a couple of weeks after his little Sofka is born; she is still so small and fragile, but finally released from her little isolette. It’s been exhausting, worrying about her health and keeping Sidney from going insane with fear and–

“It’s over between us,” Oksana says when Geno finally finds the time to actually accept her call. He’s been so very busy with Sidney and Sophia, with his life in Pittsburgh.

“For good this time,” she adds, and doesn’t sound angry or even resigned. Just a statement of facts.

Geno sighs. “Yes,” he agrees. It’s a sad truth, but the right thing for both of them.

“Always so dramatic, Zhenya.” She laughs. “Maybe now you will finally get what you want.”

“I don’t–”

“It’s okay, Zhenya. You and I were never meant to be. I think we’ve both known that for a long time. It was fun while it lasted though, wasn’t it?”

Geno smiles, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “Yeah.”

They’re silent for a moment, a pause that feels loaded with all the words they never said.

Geno clears his throat, but before he can open his mouth, Oksana says, “Be happy, Zhenya. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want.”

“You too,” he says dumbly, and Oksana laughs at him again. She hangs up soon after.

He’s going to miss her, he thinks. He really is.

“Geno?”

He turns to see Sidney looking at him worriedly. There is a bag slung over his shoulder and he’s shifting anxiously on his feet. They get to bring Sophia home today.

“Is everything all right?”

Geno smiles at him, helpless to do anything about the fondness welling up inside of him at Sidney’s fidgeting. He’s been preparing for Sophia’s homecoming for a week now, but he’s nervous. She’s still so very small.

“Everything is fine,” he says, walking up to Sidney and throwing an arm across his shoulder to tug him close.

“Come on. Let’s take Sofka home.”

  
  



	94. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: could we see something from when Sophia was born???

There is already a ficlet about Sid’s labour from Geno’s pov , but if you want to know what happened from Sid’s perspective, it starts with fake contractions.

“Might be because you’re so active,” Sid’s doctor says. He’s an older gentleman with narrow, half-moon spectacles, and Sid, having gone through the entire Harry Potter series lately, keeps referring to him as Professor Dumbledore in his mind.

“I think it’s time to scale back on your workouts. Take it a bit easier than you have been.”

“But I feel great!” Sid protests. Excluding the Braxton Hicks, he’s had a remarkably easy pregnancy. He’s full of energy and life, hardly able to sit still most days as his stomach continues to grow and grow with the child inside of him.

He’s growing quickly too, feels simply enormous compared to what he’d look like when the season finished and most guys left town while Sid stayed behind; Geno keeps complaining about how much Sid’s stomach has changed every time they Skype.

“So big already, Sid!” he’ll say. “Better not have baby without me.”

“Yes,” Dr. McIntyre says. “That’s a good thing, and we’d like to keep it that way, hm?” He peers over his spectacles at Sidney, his gaze pointed and strict.

Sid flushes. “Fine,” he says, shifting restlessly in his seat. “I guess I’ll dial down on the workouts.”

“And no heavy lifting,” Dr. McIntyre adds. “Including weights.”

Sidney sighs, but he knows better than to argue, and he doesn’t actually want to put his child in danger. He can forego the weights for a while.

In fact he does everything his doctor tells him too. Sidney feels doubly betrayed then, when his water breaks with no warning right before the freezer in the nearest supermarket (he’s browsing for ice cream).

“Oh my goodness! Sir! You’re having your baby!” There’s a staff member beaming at him happily. She seems not to care that Sid has just soiled the floor, more excited that he’s gone into labour, because Sidney is huge, even at seven months, and she doesn’t know that he’s not due yet. It’s too soon.

“I– I want Geno,” Sid blurts out. Geno had promised to be there for the birth, had promised to hold Sid’s hand because there would be no one else to do it, and Sidney had stupidly told him to go home. He’d told him not to worry and sent Geno off to Russia for the summer with a hug and a kiss on the cheek – and had then spent the next few days beating himself up over that stupid kiss. It had been impulsive and dumb; Sidney couldn’t have been more obvious. His crush on Geno is totally inappropriate. He knows that. Geno has a girlfriend. Geno is his friend and teammate, and Sid is half in love with him.

It’s not fair, and he’s being selfish, but Sid still wants him there. He’s in labour, and he wants Geno to be there with him.

“Is Geno your baby daddy?” the woman asks. Her voice is accented, her skin dark, and it’s obvious she has no clue who the hell he is, but her eyes are kind and warm, as if she genuinely cares. Sid takes an instant liking to her.

“No,” he whispers. “Just a friend, but– I really need him to be here.”

“Okay. Okay, let’s not panic. I will call for an ambulance and then we will call for someone to meet you at the hospital. Do you have your phone with you?”

Sid nods, grateful to let the woman take charge, to not have to do anything else but worry for the baby and missing Geno, wishing he was here.

Soon, he can’t even manage that. The contractions set in once he gets to the hospital and Sidney can’t think at all. It’s nothing like the Braxton Hicks. He’s never been in so much pain, is senseless to the people coming and going – until Geno gets there, miraculously. 

It’s later, much later, and Sidney’s been in labour for hours and hours already, but– 

“I’m here, Sid. I’m here,” Geno says. He’s bending over Sid, grabbing his hand for him to squeeze and placing butterfly kisses all over his sweaty face, telling him how good he’s doing; it takes Sidney a few seconds to get over how grateful he is Geno is there to pick up on the fact that Geno is  _ thanking him _ for holding it in.

“Is good you hold in baby for me. You such good friend.”

And Sidney’s been in labour for more than twenty-four hours; he doesn’t feel at all sorry about the punch he lands on Geno’s shoulder as he screams at him to get the fuck out of his room, “You insensitive bastard!”

‘Holding it in for Geno.’ Who does Geno think he is?; Sid was ready to have this baby yesterday.

But hours later, the baby still hasn’t come.

Sid is beyond exhausted. “I can’t anymore,” he sobs, shaking his head when the nurse tells him he’s doing so good and his dad is stroking his hand through Sid’s sweat-soaked hair.

“You can, son,” Troy tells him. “You can do this. You’re strong, so strong. The strongest person I know.”

Another contraction hits him, a bad one. There’s muffled voices coming from somewhere in the room, but Sid is in too much pain to focus. He thinks he hears someone say, “–surgery.”

He blacks out. When he wakes up, Geno is there again.

“Baby?” Sid asks, desperate to know. She has to be okay. She has to be.

And she is. Geno tells him he hasn’t seen her yet, that he’s waiting for Sid, but everyone is saying how perfect she is, if small.

“She in NICU,” Geno says.

NICU sounds scary, and it is; she’s hooked up to a number of tubes and wires the first time Sidney lays eyes on her. She’s resting safely inside an isolette, and he’s not allowed to hold her yet, but she’s beautiful. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The first time he holds her, a couple of days after her birth, he cries from joy. He looks up, meeting Geno’s teary eyes and couldn’t have held back his breathless grin even if he had tried to.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Sid tells him. “Thank you for coming.”

Geno smiles back at him, small and strangely hesitant. There’s a look in his eyes Sidney can’t quite identify, something raw, something special.

“No other place I want to be,” Geno tells him, and Sidney…Sidney thinks that might be true.

  
  



	95. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 13)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daycare!

It’s Duper who brings up the day care. Sophia and Lola are the same age, and Duper starts making noise (pointed and with glaringly obvious glances in Sid’s direction) that Lola is at the age where it’s a good idea for her to start socialising with other kids her own age and that this is perfectly natural and even necessary and, “I have four kids, okay? Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

He seems to be talking to no one in particular, but Zhenya knows it’s for Sidney’s benefit, that it’s more about Sophia than Lola. So does Sid, from the way he concentrates solely on his skates, refusing to look at anyone.

Zhenya sighs.

Sid is a single parent. A busy one at that, and while Sophia is still young enough to bring along on road trips, she’ll be in school soon enough; they need to get used to being separated from each other.

If he’s perfectly honest, Zhenya’s not particularly keen by the idea himself. His Sofka is a little ball of sunshine, so loving and so affectionate; she’ll bestow loud smacking kisses on anyone who’ll let her. 

Zhenya has the terrible feeling that she’s going to grow up a terrible flirt. Definitely a heartbreaker, that one.

She already has about half a dozen girlfriends and boyfriends. She’s only two and a half, but she’s been steadily claiming their teammates’ kids for a while now. Zhenya has already counted four proposals that he’s witnessed. 

Sophia proposed each time.

And while he fears day care will turn out to be more proposals and more boyfriends and girlfriends, Zhenya does recognise the necessity. It will be good for Sofka. And he thinks it will be good for Sidney too.

“But she’s so little,” Sid says when Zhenya brings it up again over dinner. “I’m her dad. She needs to be with me.”

“Can’t be with always,” Zhenya points out. “Need to let bird leave nest sometime.”

Sidney bristles at that, glaring at Zhenya over the table. “There will be no birds leaving any nest anytime soon, okay?” He sighs, glancing over at where Sofka is happily slurping at her spaghetti, her cheeks a smeared mess of tomato sauce. 

Zhenya knows Sid will probably sucker him into giving her a bath later–always a challenge–but he can’t help but smile. She’s adorable.

He meets Sidney’s eyes and they share a grin, Sid unable to hold back his fond smile at Sofka’s cheery mess.

“She’s so little,” he says again, a little wistful.

Zhenya wisely keeps silent. He knows Sid realises the necessity of entering Sophia into day care; it’s just the reality of it he has to come to terms with.

“Fine. I’ll call Duper later. Might as well give it a trial run. I can always pull her out if she doesn’t like it, right?”

Zhenya says nothing, but he smirks smugly, lips stretching into a shit-eating grin when Sidney rolls his eyes at him, annoyed.

Sophia starts day care a couple of weeks later, at the tail-end of the regular season. She takes to it like she does everything else; enthusiastic and cheerful. Surprisingly, it’s a remarkably easy transition for Sid as well.

In fact, it’s Zhenya who takes it the hardest.

He finds he’s antsy during the day, keeps wondering if his little Sofka is okay even though he joins Sid as he picks her up at day care everyday, beaming happily from whatever it is she’s been doing that day.

He misses her, he realises, because unlike Sid, Zhenya doesn’t get to spend evenings with her (with Sid), because Zhenya has his own house to go home to, his own life he has to live independently of Sid and Sophia.

Until Brooksie rips off a shot that’s deflected into Sid’s face and breaks his jaw.

Zhenya moves in to help; they’re keeping Sid on the good stuff and he spends about seventy per cent of the day high as a kite. It’s hilarious, and also means someone (Zhenya) needs to supervise. So he moves in. And doesn’t move out until it’s time go back to Russia almost three months later.

(It’s not weird, it’s not. He’s just being a good friend. That’s all.

Really.)


	96. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 14)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler's pov

Tyler would like all parties involved to know he is, actually, completely innocent in all of this. Sort of. 

Any fool with a pair of eyes can see that Sid and Malkin are absolutely ga-ga for each other, but Sid is hot, okay? Like, awesome hockey, awesome body (ass) hot, and it’s practically Tyler’s patriotic duty to lay one on him when given the chance. Sid is basically Canada physically embodied, and it makes them all a little hot and extra patriotic, somehow. Even Claude.

So when Claude and Ovi (far too easily, to be honest) convinces him to kiss Sid in front of Malkin in the name of true love and Sophia’s goal to get her daddy a boyfriend, Tyler can’t help but take the opportunity to grab onto the meat of Sid’s ass and squeeze.

It’s just, it’s right  _ there _ . And probably his only chance. He can’t not do it.

Tyler is a self-proclaimed ass man; he feels perfectly justified.

Evgeni Malkin does not agree.

“Geno!” Sid gasps out when the man in question violently tears Tyler away from Sidney before driving his fist into Tyler’s jaw and  _ son of a bitch _ . Getting punched fucking hurts.

He’s glad they decided to do this with Sophia being safely elsewhere at a sleepover with Spez’s kids. He doesn’t ever want for her to see her precious uncle Geno like this; all indignant fury and murderous rage.

“Geno, don’t!” Sid clamps his hands around Malkin’s arm before he can land another punch on Tyler’s face.

Tyler sighs gratefully. He’s still reeling from the first one.

“Come on, it’s not worth it. It was just a stupid prank, right? Probably a dare.” Sid glares pointedly at Tyler, and Tyler nods his head frantically, slowly inching away from Malkin’s seething form.

“Exactly!” he says. “Claude dared me; it didn’t mean anything.” Tyler doesn’t even hesitate to throw Claude under the bus. Better Malkin direct his rage at him than at Tyler.

Malkin sneers. “Not funny prank. He assault you, Sid! Grope you, try to take advantage.”

Oh, wow. Malkin legitimately looks ready to kill Tyler right here and now. They seriously underestimated his protective instinct when they devised this plan.

Tyler can maybe see now how sauntering up to Sid in the hallway outside his hotel room and manhandling him into his arms with only Malkin as witness hadn’t been the best idea.

He is never listening to Claude again. Or Ovi.

“I’m sure it wasn’t like that,” Sid says soothingly, stroking his thumb across the bared skin of Malkin’s arm in an effort to calm him down. It seems to be working, thankfully. “Just a stupid prank,” he says again. “It was in poor taste, but that’s all it was.” He tugs at Malkin’s arm, moving backwards to his hotel room, away from Tyler.

“Come on. Let’s just go inside. We’ll talk, okay?”

Malkin lets himself be moved only reluctantly, glaring murderously at Tyler all the while. “Touch him again—” he starts to say.

“He won’t,” Sid cuts in, sending Tyler a sharp look. “Right, Segs?”

Tyler swallows. “Of course, no. Sorry. Sorry, my bad, this was…” He trails off, realising he better stop talking before giving Malkin any more incentive to go off on him.

“Good. We’ll see you later, then.”

Tyler can only nod, watching as Sid ushers Malkin inside his room before the door closes behind them, the lock fitting into place with a soft  _ snick _ .

Tyler sags, releasing a swoosh of air as he runs a hand through his hair.  _ Holy fuck _ , he thinks.

His jaw is smarting like crazy, and there will be a huge ugly bruise there soon enough, but it doesn’t feel broken, and Tyler is still alive.

He thinks that counts as a win, maybe.

Claude winces in sympathy when he gets back to their shared room. Ovi is there too.

“Did he punch you?” Ovi asks delightedly, and Tyler scowls. What an asshole.

“Yeah,” he grunts out, poking gingerly at his aching jaw. “Because this was a spectacularly  _ bad idea _ ! I should never have agreed to it. Malkin looked two seconds away from murdering me.”

“But you think it worked?”

Tyler shrugs at Claude’s question. “I mean, they disappeared off into Sid’s room together? Malkin was pretty pissed, though. Like, he literally accused me of assaulting Sid. I told him it was your idea,” he says, nodding in Claude’s direction. He feels a little better when Claude visibly blanches.

“Hm, so we still don’t know if plan work,” Ovi surmises. He frowns thoughtfully. “But such a violent reaction...It’s not normal for Zhenya. Sid will definitely ask questions. This is good!” Ovi beams at them, looking thoroughly satisfied. “Plan work!”

“It fucking better,” Tyler says. He rubs at his jaw again. “This fucking hurts, okay? And Coach will be pissed when he finds out.”

“Yeah, no, Segs. We’re not telling Coach what actually happened; are you crazy? He’ll bench us both.” Claude waves a careless hand at Tyler’s face. “ _ That _ happened while we were out. Some drunk Czech getting in your face.”

Tyler lifts his brows, unimpressed. “That’s not actually better. He’ll just bench us for getting drunk and into fights with the locals.” Shit. There’s really no way for Tyler to get out of this without pissing off Coach. He should have thought of that before.

Dammit. He’s been so good lately. It’s been such a long time since he’s done something so dumb and immature. He’s been better since being traded to Dallas. The trade and playing for the Stars has made him a better person.

(Maybe meeting Jamie and playing with him has something to do with it too, but whatever.)

“Is okay!” Ovi says. “I cover for you; say I get into fight and you help me out, took punch meant for me.” He grins at them, that famous gap-toothed smile of his.

Claude nods. “That’ll work. We’ll chalk it up to international relations or whatever. Can’t blame us for coming to a fellow NHLer’s rescue.”

Which is true, and why Coach grumbles, displeased, but doesn’t actually bench them like Tyler had feared. And while Coach is still pissed that Tyler had gotten himself in a (imagined, but also actually) situation where it could have ended much worse, Ovi is an excellent liar, and Coach is reluctantly pleased that they didn’t leave the Great 8 to fend for himself.

Everyone agrees it would have been a nightmare all round if Ovi got hurt during extracurriculars at Worlds and the NHL found out about it (and as only five people know Ovi was never in any real danger, no one points out that the NHL wouldn’t actually have had a real reason to ban players from attending the World Championships).

So Tyler still gets to play, and by the time both Russia and Canada make it through the semi finals, a few days have past and Tyler is sporting a nice juicy bruise on his face. He pales a little when he finds out they’ll be playing Russia in the finals.

Because playing against Russia means he’ll be playing opposite Evgeni Malkin. Malkin, who has yet to stop glaring at Tyler whenever he sees him.

_ Shit _ .

  
  
  
  



	97. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 15)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "hello! i am completely digging the sophia crosby verse fics you're writing. would you be able to write another one, perhaps one where sid & geno are newly dating or something? just one small request - would you also make it about 150k words long, & just include a few escenes of sophia gorwing up and HEA sid & geno with older sophia, perhaps with some siblings? just a thought!! ^---^!! <3"
> 
> This is an old prompt, and I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it. I’m working through my backlog after taking a break and doing other stuff in between. I think my new year’s resolution this year is going to be to clear out my inbox :P Anyway, it’s way overdue, but here you go.

Sophia remembers being five and wishing with all her heart and all her might that one day her beloved uncle Geno wouldn’t just be her uncle anymore. Instead, she’d get to call him dad. She’d get to be the flower girl in Daddy and Uncle Geno’s wedding and the best part wouldn’t even be the fluffy pink dress she’d get to wear or all the cake she’d eat. The best part, the part that she’d wished for ever since she was old enough to understand what wanting something really meant, was that when the wedding was over, when all the cake had been eaten and all the guests had left, the three of them would be a family. Sophia and her daddies.

**

Sophia is almost seven when she gets her wish. It’s a late August wedding, and Grandpa Troy cries and cries during the ceremony ‘cause he’s, “Just so happy.” Half the NHL is there, Claude too (even though he swore up and down for six months straight that no one would ever catch him dead at Sidney Crosby’s wedding. Claude is the only one who still pretends like they’re not friends. He’s always been funny like that).

It’s the best summer ever.

**

When Sophia is eight, her parents have been married for a little over one year and  _ still  _ they haven’t given her a little brother or sister. This is completely unacceptable. Lola Dupuis has three siblings,  _ three _ , and even though they’re all older than Lola, at least she’s not alone, like Sophia. Even Estelle Fleury has a little sister now and she was the only one of Sophia’s friends (besides Alex Letang, who doesn’t count ‘cause he’s a  _ boy _ ) to be an only child like her.

Sophia says, “Dad, you should knock Daddy up!” She’s not entirely sure what her dad knocking Daddy up entails, but it’s what Sanja decided needed to happen when she called to complain about her lack of siblings. Uncle Sanja is a little weird most of the time, but Sophia is long used to it, and he’s never wrong, usually.

She watches Dad chokes on his own spit, the car swerving a little in the lane before he regains control. He meets her eyes in the rear-view mirror, his jaw hanging loose.

Sophia only ever gets to sit in the front seat when it’s her and Daddy, and even then only rarely, and they have to keep it secret from Dad. He’s very protective.

“Have you been talking to your uncle Sanja?” Dad demands, because he’s no fool.

Sophia nods. “Uncle Sanja says he’s my godfather and that it’s his duty to give me advice on ‘love, life, and money of the Russian variety’.” Sophia ticks the list of her fingers, well versed in this particular speech. She knows what comes next, as well.

“Uncle Sanja is  _ not  _ your godfather. Don’t let Daddy hear you call him that; he’ll get annoyed.” Dad is rolling his eyes, but Sophia can see the way his mouth twitches, as if he’s struggling not to laugh.

An angry Daddy is not one she ever wants to see, but an annoyed one is mostly just hilarious.

She giggles a little to herself. “He won’t know if I say it in Russian.”

Dad shakes his head. “He’ll know,” he says. “He always knows. Now tell me, how was practice today? Did you get to work on the power play?”

**

Daddy announces he’s having a baby (it will turn out to be triplets) when she’s nine, and Sophia blurts out, “So Dad knocked you up?”

Dad winces, Daddy goes bright red, and Uncle Sanja laughs and laughs when she tells him about it later.

Sophia doesn’t mind. She’s going to be a big sister!

**

Three babies is a lot more work than she thought it would be.  _ A lot _ . But they’re her siblings and she loves them. Even if all they do is cry and poop.

Sometimes they’ll sleep too, or make faces that look like smiles even though everybody says babies can’t smile.

Sophia doesn’t believe that for a second. She’s seen them.

** 

She guesses sometimes they’re pretty cute, too.

  
  
  



	98. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 16)

Zhenya knows he’s in trouble even before Sidney closes the door behind him and turns to look at him as if Zhenya is someone completely foreign to him. A stranger.

It’s been a long time since Zhenya has been this angry off the ice. He can still feel the rage simmer in his veins, a low undercurrent that has him jittery with aggressive energy and no release. He has half a mind to stalk out the door and finish what he’d started. He clenches his hands. Seguin would certainly deserve it.

“What the hell was that?” Sidney demands, glaring at him fiercely enough that Zhenya knows better than to fake confusion. Not this time; Sidney will forgive him a lot of things, more than he should, probably, but not this.

Zhenya could have done real damage to Seguin. He probably would have if Sid hadn’t stopped him.

“Well?”

Zhenya runs a hand through his hair, tugging at a few strands in his frustration. “He fucking assaulted you, Sid. What was I supposed to do?” He’s too angry to remember his English, and while Sid’s Russian is barely passable at best, he gets the gist just fine.

“English,” he barks at Zhenya, followed by, “Tyler is an idiot, but he wasn’t actually assaulting me, and even if he was, I can take care of myself.” Sidney looks at Zhenya, his green eyes searching. “But you already knew that.”

Zhenya sighs heavily. He lets his hand fall from his head. “You didn’t want him touching you. I’m know. Make you uncomfortable.”

Sidney visibly softens—he always does when Zhenya shows any hint of protectiveness or affection for him, as if surprised that anyone would care like this for him. That  _ Zhenya  _ would care like this for him.

“I  _ was  _ uncomfortable,” Sidney admits. “And I will be having a conversation with Tyler about this. But there was no reason for you to react like that. What if Sophia had been there? What if she’d seen you?” 

Zhenya blanches. He likes to imagine that he would have kept his temper, that he would never have let Sophia seen him like that, violent and dangerous.

The sight of Seguin forcing his mouth over Sid’s flashes through his mind, and his vision goes a little white-hot around the edges as the image of the way Seguin had squeezed his hands around the flesh of Sid’s ass plays on a loop in his brain.

Zhenya would like to claim that he would have reacted differently if Sophia been there, but he’s not so sure.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” he says, because the thought of Sophia seeing him like that is too much to bear. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m never want her to—“ He breaks off, frustrated. 

He’s sorry, but he’s not sorry. It’s true he doesn’t ever want for Sophia to see him like that—she’s his little Sofka—but he is never going to be the kind of guy to stand by and watch as the people he loves are hurt, and Sid is— 

Sid is someone he loves. Very much.

“What you want me to say, Sid?” Zhenya asks tiredly. He looks away from Sidney’s green eyes, can’t quite hold his piercing gaze. Zhenya suppresses a shudder. It feels as if Sidney is looking straight through his skin and down to the very marrow of his bones, to where the truth of him lies:

Zhenya is in love with Sidney.

“Geno?”

Zhenya meets his gaze again at the sound of that name; it’s a quiet, soft little gasp, and the sound of it, of the name Sidney had gifted him all those years ago, of the name his little Sofka calls him, goes straight to Zhenya’s heart. He is Evgeni Malkin, he is Zhenya, and he belongs to Russia, always, but he is  _ their  _ Geno, Sidney and Sophia’s, and that means more than anything.

“Geno?” Sidney says again, and he must be reading the truth in Zhenya’s eyes, has always been able to read Zhenya like an open book— 

“Want to kiss you,” Zhenya says. Sidney is standing right in front of him now, and instead of pulling away like Zhenya has been so afraid he would if he ever found out the truth, he’s leaning in. He’s leaning in, and Zhenya might never get this chance again. He’s not wasting it. “Want more than kiss, want everything, Sid. I’m love—”

“Yes,” Sidney breathes out, and then they’re kissing, kissing, kissing.

Zhenya comes alive with it; he devours Sid like a man starving, holding on to him as if he can’t bear to let go. 

“You love me?” Sidney manages to ask in between kisses. “You’re in love with me?”

“For so long,” Zhenya promises. “Love you most.” He finds Sid’s mouth and kisses him hard, once, twice. “You—?”

Sidney laughs. The sound is high and more than a little incredulous. “I’ve been in love with you since before Sophia was born.”

Zhenya’s jaw goes slack. He what now?

Sidney smiles at him softly. “You were still with Oksana then, remember? And then Sophia was born and it was just never the right time to tell you. I wanted to, though, so bad.” He bites his lower lip, and Zhenya watches, helpless, as Sidney worries it between his teeth. “I almost did once,” Sid reveals after a few seconds. “When Sophia and I picked you up at the airport before last season?”

Zhenya groans. He lets his head fall forward, gently resting his forehead against Sid’s. “But I bring home Katya.”

“Yes.”

Zhenya closes his eyes. He’d been so excited to introduce Katya to Sidney and Sofka, so sure that this time, he’d found the one person that wasn’t Sid but could still make him happy.

Their’s had been a whirlwind romance, but Zhenya had loved Katya fiercely.

Not with  _ all _ his heart though, because he had given it to Sidney and Sophia long ago, and it didn’t take long before Katya understood she could never have all of him.

_ Tell him _ , she’d urged before she left him to go back to Russia.  _ You deserve love, Zhenya. _

Zhenya never did, but now, now is different.

Now, Zhenya has told Sid he loves him, and he’s not taking that back. 

Not ever.


	99. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 17)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "I love your Sophia CrosbyAU! and I have questions. How do her Daddies tell her they are now together? What is her name after the wedding? Do Sophia and Uncle Sanja "kill it" on the dance floor during the reception? What are the names of her siblings? Does Ovi FINALLY get to be a Godfather?"
> 
> Whoa there! Let’s just tackle the first question this time!

See, Sid and Geno doesn’t so much tell her as she figures it out herself, later, after Canada destroys Russia in the gold medal game. She’s happy Daddy won, and Seggy is smiling so hard it has to be painful with his bruised jaw–but Uncle Geno and Uncle Sanja look super sad, and Sophia is only five (almost), but she knows what it means for them to stay behind on the ice when the rest of their Russian teammates skate off as the Canadian national anthem plays.

She’s heard Daddy say Uncle Geno has a complicated relationship with Russia before. She knows what ‘complicated’ means (Uncle Duper uses that word when she asks why Daddy and Uncle Geno can’t just be happy together), but no one will tell her what actually happened.

_ When you’re older _ , Uncle Geno will say, and he’ll look so sad Sophia only nods her head and never complains about how she’s old enough  _ now _ .

She’s been watching the game from a private box with Grandma and Grandpa (Aunt Taylor is watching from the stands with some of the older kids), but she wants to go see Daddy and Uncle Geno now. 

“No, no, sit,” Grandpa tells Grandma when she starts to get up. “I’ll take her.”

Grandma beams up at him and reaches over to clean off some chocolate off Sophia’s cheek with a napkin. “So your dad doesn’t see,” she says and winks at Sophia before turning back to her conversation with Mr and Mrs. MacKinnon. 

Sophia waves at them as Grandpa grabs her other hand and guides her out of the box; she knows the MacKinnons really well. They babysit her in the summers sometimes.

“You know, kiddo,” Grandpa says as they start descending the stairs leading to ice level. “Your dad just made history.”

Sophia looks up at him curiously. “How come?”

“He’s the only person in history to have captained a team to a Stanley Cup, Olympics gold, and now a World Championship,” he explains proudly, the look on his face the same one as when Daddy brags about her skating to Uncle Tanger and Uncle Duper.

Sophia knows that means Grandpa is proud of her daddy, like Daddy is of her.

She grins. “Daddy is pretty cool!” she says, and Grandpa laughs loudly in agreement.

“That he is.”

They’re just around the corner from Canada’s locker room when they see JJ. “Troy Crosby!” he says. “How you’ve been?”

Grandpa nods at him. “Jaromir,” he says pleasantly. He turns to look at Sophia. “Why don’t you go on ahead, kiddo? I’m gonna have a few words with Jaromir, okay?”

Sophia shrugs. She waves a goodbye at JJ, giggling when he grins at her and sticks out his tongue in response.

She takes off, rounding the corner of the corridor only to stop up short at what she sees.

She can hear music and loud voices from inside the locker room, but the hallway is abandoned. Except for Daddy and Uncle Geno.

They’re hugging, and when they pull away, Sophia’s eyes grow wide. She watches, almost too afraid to breathe, as Uncle Geno puts Daddy’s face between his hands before leaning down to kiss him. On the mouth. The way parents do.

“Geno,” Daddy murmurs gently against his lips, and Sophia has to slam her hands over her own mouth not to squeal. “Someone could see us.”

“Too late,” Uncle Geno says. He nods in Sophia’s direction. “Hi, Sofka.”

“Oh,” Daddy says when he sees her. His cheeks go pink in embarrassment, but Sophia doesn’t think he’s mad, and she can’t help herself then.

“You kissed!” she squeals happily, running over to them and throwing herself at their legs. “Does that mean you’re boyfriends now? Are you gonna get married?”

Daddy laughs and bends to pick her up, settling her comfortably at his hip. “No one is getting married just yet.”

“But boyfriends, though,” Uncle Geno says, looking a little smug.

“Yeah,” Daddy says. His voice is all soft and breathy, and Sophia can only giggle when Uncle Geno beams at them happily, leaning over to kiss first Daddy on the lips and then plant a loud smack on Sophia’s cheek.

“Stuck with me now,” Uncle Geno warns, but Sophia doesn’t mind at all.

She watches Daddy give Uncle Geno another kiss, and thinks he doesn’t mind either.


	100. Sid/Geno - Sophia Crosby verse, mpreg, single dad!Sid, friends to lovers (Part 18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid's broken jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: some h/c in the sophia crosby vers pleease?

I shall tell you about how it takes Zhenya an entire three days before he becomes personally acquainted with the part of parenthood no one ever talks about (not that he’s heard, anyway): exhaustion.

It creeps up on him, slowly, like something ominous and inevitable. He’s lulled into a sense of false security by Troy and Trina’s presence, there to help with both Sid (drugged out of his mind) and Sofka (nervous about the tension and worry she picks up from the adults, but otherwise her usual happy self).

Three pairs of hands manage to keep on top of the two Crosby’s in need of babysitting, and Zhenya thinks,  _ Easy _ .

He can do this. Totally.

“You’re sure?” Trina asks for what feels like the dozenth time. She’s cradling Sofka to her chest, Troy standing by her side and pulling funny faces for Sofka to giggle at.

Zhenya brought her along to the airport to drop them off–couldn’t leave her alone with Sid, groggy and drowsy from the drugs, barely cognisant to where he was.

(Zhenya had to convince him last night that they were not, in fact, residing on the moon, but were in Sidney’s own home in Pittsburgh. Sid hadn’t believed him.)

“It’s fine. Sofka and me will take of Sid. Is okay.”

Trina frowns worriedly. “You’re  _ absolutely _ sure? I can call the office, tell them I’m staying another day. They would understand it’s–”

“Sweetheart,” Troy says. He shares a look with Zhenya, as if to say,  _ mothers, what are you gonna do? _

Zhenya wisely holds back his snicker. “Am sure, Trina,” he says, his tongue rolling on the ‘R’ as he leans over to take Sofka from her arms. “Have team if things get too crazy. And Mario and Nathalie.”

Trina relaxes at that, and while she doesn’t look completely happy, grumbling about how three days isn’t enough, her son  _ broke his jaw! For God’s sake!  _ they leave anyway.

“Just you and me now, kid,” Zhenya tells Sofka as he buckles her into the car seat.

“Daddy!” Sofka squeals back, in Russian, and Zhenya laughs.

“I don’t think we can count on Daddy right now. He’s high as a kite.”

He’s also asleep most of the time, which the doctors had said he would be for the first few days after the operation. They managed to avoid having to wire his jaw shut, but his mouth was still filled with all kinds of screws and platinum; it was better for Sid to sleep through the worst of the pain, drugged to the gills as he was.

Zhenya makes sure Sid eats when he should, that he’s up to wash and stretch his legs sometimes, but mostly he sleeps, a pliant patient for now. (He’ll get worse once he comes around a little more. So much worse. No patience, that one.)

Sofka…is another matter entirely.

The thing is, Zhenya has hockey in between taking care of them both. He lets Sidney sleep in the mornings and brings Sofka to day care during the day before attending to his own business. And in practice, coach rides them hard. It’s a shortened season. The playoffs will be upon them soon enough, and they’ll miss Sid for the start of it.

There’s a lot going on, and Sofka does not take it well. There are tantrums, loud, unyielding tantrums which shows just how unused to not having her daddy’s undivided attention she is. It’d been fine when Troy and Trina were there to spoil her with affection, but with only Zhenya around and no Sid in sight, she is less impressed. 

Blessedly, Sidney sleeps through most of her wailing, and Zhenya keeps her away from him for the most part no matter how much she begs. The doctor had warned them, vehemently, against the dangers of accidental limbs smacking into Sid’s face.

Zhenya is not about to chance damaging him further because Sofka wants to smash her face against Sidney’s to cuddle.

She’s stuck with him for the duration, and they’re both exhausted.

When Sidney is off the drugs, Zhenya is going to have a long talk with him about what parenting Sofka is really like. He feels a little bit betrayed, a little blindsided; he’s always left Sid and Sofka at the end of the day in favour of his own home, but now, there is no leaving after hours of fun and giggles—now he’s there for what comes after, in all its deafening glory.

It gets better, of course, like all things do once they reduce Sid’s drug doses and he’s awake enough for actual conversations and, mercifully, give Sofka some much needed attention (supervised, of course).

They’re still keeping him on the good stuff, though, and a high Sidney Crosby, much to  _ everyone’s  _ amusement, is a giggly, happy, affectionate Sidney Crosby.

Zhenya brings him along to practice one day after they’ve dropped off Sofka at day care, and Sidney starts giggling uncontrollably once he sees Flower in his goalie gear.

They all grin back at him, helpless to do anything but at the sight of his lopsided smile and missing teeth.

“What’s so funny, Sid?” Flower tries to ask, but Sid gets distracted by Duper’s scruffy face before he can answer.

“Wow,” Sidney says awed, unceremoniously rubbing the flat of his palms over Duper’s cheeks. “I can’t grow a beard like this,” he adds mournfully, and by the shit-eating grin on Duper’s face, Sidney will be getting chirped for this for the rest of his life.

“Okay, Sid,” Geno says, hooking his finger into the collar of Sid’s tee. “You come with me. We go see Dana; will be safe with him.”

Sid goes with him easily, reaching out to grab Zhenya’s hand with his so he can swing them between them as they walk.

Zhenya sighs, but doesn’t break the grip. He sneaks Sid a glance only to find him already beaming up at him.

“Our hands fit really good together,” Sid tells him. “We should get married.”

Zhenya barks out a surprised laugh. He’s not sure their hands fitting together is the best premise for getting married. “Already proposed, remember? You said no,” he teases.

Sidney wrinkles his nose. “I didn’t know our hands would fit so well together then!” he protests, as if this makes all the difference.

Ten minutes later, Dana gives Sid a gentle hug, careful not to knock into his jaw, and Sidney says, “You hug really good. We should get married!”

He’ll propose at least another half a dozen times to varying people that day, and once, hilariously, to Potash. On the basis of his five foreheads.

Zhenya shakes his head fondly each time.

Like father like daughter.

  
  



	101. Sid/Geno - mpreg, pre-relationship, getting together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re in a hotel room in Philly, of all places, when Duper says, “Mon Dieu, Sid, do we really need to watch another episode of Friends?” and Sidney blurts out, “I think I might be pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> northisnotup inquired: "SID AND G FOR 16!!"
> 
> I got a few prompts for #16: “I did a pregnancy test.”, so here goes. Btw, I wanted this to be fluff so bad, but then it turned kinda angsty, and then the fluff came later. No unhappy ending!

They’re in a hotel room in Philly, of all places, when Duper says, “Mon Dieu, Sid, do we really need to watch another episode of _Friends_?” and Sidney blurts out, “I think I might be pregnant.”

Duper gapes at him, and for a second there is a shocked silence.

“ _What_?”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Duper scoffs. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. _Jesus_.” He lifts a hand to his face, rubbing across the ever present scruff on his jaw. “Why do you think you’re pregnant? Have you seen a doctor?”

“No doctor,” Sidney says. He’d booked an emergency appointment when he first suspected, but in the end he’d chickened out. “I did a pregnancy test.” He pauses. “I did _five_ pregnancy tests. They were all positive.”

Duper blinks, stunned. “D’accord,” he says finally. “Right. So you’re pregnant. You’ve gotta be pregnant, right? Five tests, that’s—and they’re supposed to be pretty accurate.” He takes a deep breath, starts getting up, and then resettles on the bed.

Sidney feels strangely calm watching him.

"Obviously, we need to get you checked out by Doc and the med guys, and you can’t play tonight, Sid. There’s no way you can—”

“I know! Of course I—God, Duper. I wasn’t. I wasn’t gonna play.” Frankly, Sid is insulted that Duper thinks he would. Sidney might have only taken the tests the day before, and he’s had less than twenty-four hours to get used to the idea that he’s having a baby, but Sidney would _never_ endanger his child. He just hadn’t known how to let anyone else know before they left Pittsburgh. He hadn’t really had time to process the news before they were on the plane to Philly.

They fall silent again, the only sound filling the room that of Chandler Bing’s voice telling them to, “Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up!_ ”

“Have you told Geno yet?” Duper asks when the audience’s laughter fades.

Sidney’s face goes blank. “Why would I tell Geno?” he asks, keeping his eyes fastened on the TV screen, suddenly very interested in an episode he’s seen ten times before. He can recite it line for line from memory alone.

“Really? We’re doing this? We’re going to pretend no one knows you and Geno have been hooking up for God knows how long?”

That would be two months, three weeks and a couple of days, to be exact.

Sidney doesn’t tell Duper that, though. He doesn’t want to say he knows exactly how long he’s been hooking up with Geno because he’s keeping count, because he knows that this thing is just sex. They’re fuck buddies, nothing more.

It’s a convenient arrangement, useful for scratching the occasional itch.

Well, it _was_ a useful arrangement. They’d decided, just the other week, to break things off– _We’re treading water, G. The team is still too inconsistent, and everyone is looking to us to change it. We have to focus on the right thing here._

_What you saying, Sid?_

_I’m saying we shouldn’t keep hooking up._

Duper sighs loudly when Sidney remains silent. “Okay. Let’s just go find doc and get you checked out.” He climbs out of bed and stretches a little before looking at Sid. “Look, five tests seem pretty conclusive, but we have to know for sure, eh?” He walks over to the door, shoving his feet into his trainers and patting his back pocket to make sure he’s got the hotel key. “Come on, let’s go.”

Sidney spends about five seconds pouting, because he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to confirm what he already knows; it will just make everything seem all the more real.

Duper is a parent, though, and he’s got four kids; Sid is relatively small fry in comparison. He patiently waits Sidney out.

“Fine,” Sid grumbles, getting out of the bed to look for his crocs. He may as well be comfortable if he has to sit through Dr. Vyas prodding at him.

“So slow,” Duper teases when he’s finally ready to go, and before Sidney can retort, he opens the door to reveal Geno.

Sidney feels about as startled as Geno looks to see them.

“Geno,” Duper says, looking from Geno to Sid. “What are you doing here?” He lifts his brows meaningfully at Sid, asking without words what he wants him to do.

Sidney is too busy staring at Geno to really notice. He’s scowling, eyes narrowing as he looks between Sid and Duper.

“Came to see Sid,” Geno starts to say, and Sidney doesn’t find out why, because Geno is _right there_ and Sidney might be (probably is) pregnant, and it’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but he’s missed Geno so much this last week. They see each other pretty much every day, but it’s not the same since Sidney broke it off, it’s not, and he’s been so stupid. He misses Geno.

“I’m pregnant,” he tells him. “I mean I think I’m pregnant. I did a pregnancy test. Five of them, actually, and they were all positive, so I’m pretty sure…” He trails off, pulling his lower lip between his teeth to chew on it anxiously.

Duper is pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering unflattering things about Sid under his breath in French, but Sidney only has eyes for Geno.

He watches with bated breath as Geno blinks stupidly at him, looking as stunned as Sid has ever seen him.

A second ticks by, then another, and Sidney thinks it might be the most nervous he’s ever been, waiting for Geno to process the information.

“You– We-I’m.” Very slowly, a wide grin spreads across Geno’s face. He takes a step closer, reaching out with a careful hand, and when Sidney doesn’t deny him, he places it over Sidney’s still flat stomach. “There’s baby in here?” he asks, his voice nothing more than an awed whisper. “We going to have a baby!”

Sidney nods wordlessly, feeling a little teary-eyed as he lets Geno twine their fingers together. He squeezes the hand in his. “Yeah. I mean, we’re going to go find out for sure, but yeah. We’re having a baby, Geno.”

Geno kisses him then, in full view of Duper, and Sidney is so happy and so taken aback he forgets they aren’t supposed to do this anymore.

He keeps forgetting when Geno, who refuses to let go of Sid’s hand, joins them as Dr. Vyas confirms that Sidney is, indeed, pregnant.

He forgets when Geno follows him home after they get back to Pittsburgh and just doesn’t leave again.

He forgets when they’re kissing in gleeful delight as they hear their baby’s heartbeat for the first time, and then when the baby starts kicking and Geno is there to comfort it with calm, comforting words.

He forgets when he gives birth to their daughter and Geno declares they’re having _at least_ another five to match the perfection that is their baby girl–Sidney doesn’t ever really remember after that.

He spends a good ten minutes cursing out Geno, his heritage, and his genitals, before calming enough to agree that yeah, their DNA is obviously superior, and all of their future kids will be nothing but awesome, obviously.

“What should we name her?” he wonders, and it’s just the three of them in the hospital room now. Not that it matters. The room could be full of elephants for all that Sidney is paying attention, too busy staring at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms. “Something short. And it has to be easy to say in both English and Russian.”

Geno smiles at him, leaning over the bed to press his lips against Sidney’s before pulling back to look down at their daughter.

“Could name Maya. Is pretty name for pretty girl.”

“Maya,” Sidney says thoughtfully, trying it out. In his arms, the baby scrunches up her face, her eyes fluttering restlessly. She really is the most perfect thing Sidney has ever seen.

“Maya,” he says again, decisively. He nods. “Welcome to the world, Maya. You’re going to have such a good time.”


	102. Sid/Geno - mpreg, fuckbuddies, getting together (Pocket Full of Sand Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney doesn’t think they should get married just because he’s knocked up. Evgeni strongly disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "I've got a cravibg for mpreg. Sid/geno or benn/seguin. Please have pity on me and throw me some scraps 😭"
> 
> All right XDD Have the intro from a WIP that’s called Pockets Full of Sand.

Sidney is five months pregnant when Evgeni decides enough is enough.

“We’re getting married,” he says. He narrows his eyes at Sidney and tries not to be overcome with the delirious joy he feels every time he lies eyes on Sid and his bulging stomach. It’s all jumbled up with a healthy dose of pure exasperation and the love he’s felt for Sidney since before they were _in_ love.

Well.

Evgeni is, anyway. Who knows what the hell Sid is feeling at any given time?

“No,” Sidney says.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes—”

Sidney sighs. He calmly flips a page in his book and very pointedly says nothing.

Shears and Junior hold their breaths, and Rusty absently grabs for more chocolate. All three of them are watching as if Sid and Evgeni are the most entertaining thing they’ve ever seen.

Evgeni gives them his best scowl, but Shears is giving Sid a foot rub and Rusty—as much as he’s sampling the sweets—is covering Sid’s cravings by making sure he’s got a constant supply of chocolate.

(Junior is just there for the entertainment.)

Catering to Sid like that, there’s no way Evgeni can make them scram unless Sid decides he doesn’t want them there.

He holds back a sigh. He longs for the time when the rookies were bright new and shiny, and outright terrified of him.

Those were the days. Not so much anymore. 

“Sid,” Evgeni tries, but Sidney is nothing if not stubborn, and he’s decided they’re not getting married even if it’s obviously the right thing to do.

Even Troy and his Catholic guilt have been unable to sway him, and Evgeni had half expected Sid to fold the minute Troy started making noise about maybe how it was time to start thinking about booking a venue, and how Father Brown was conveniently available to officiate if they would just pick a date already.

But no.

Sidney has remained steadfast despite being the biggest daddy’s boy Evgeni has ever met.

Not that Evgeni himself has all that much room to talk. He is a self-proclaimed mama’s boy, after all, but that’s neither here nor there.

“A baby is no reason to get married.”

Shears and Rusty snort at this, and Junior shakes his head sadly. “Literally millions of people would disagree with that,” he informs them all.

Evgeni gestures at him emphatically, as if to say, _See! Finally, someone who sees reason!_

Sidney sniffs delicately. “Well, _I_ don’t.” He looks up at Evgeni. “I’m not marrying you just because you knocked me up,” he tells him firmly, as he has before. Several times.

“G proposed _again_ and I missed it? Damn.” Ian grins at them as he walks into the break room with Tanger and Shultzy following close behind. He takes a seat next to Rusty, stealing a piece of chocolate before looking at Sid and Evgeni expectantly. “I love watching Sid shoot you down.” He nods at Evgeni. “It’s freaking hilarious.”

Evgeni rolls his eyes and bares his teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. He’s not sure why he decided the Penguins’ break room was a good idea to start up this conversation again, but Sidney is already five months pregnant, and Evgeni is running out of time. At the glacier pace it usually takes Sidney to do _anything_ he doesn’t want to, convincing him to get married is probably going to take the remaining months before the baby is born.

Evgeni intends for them to get married before that. His child is not going to be born a bastard. Not if he can help it.

“Give it up, mon chum,” Tanger says quietly. “He is not going to say yes. Not today, at least.” He pats Evgeni on the back, and Evgeni knows he is commiserating even if Tanger won’t say so aloud with Sid around to hear. He’d gone through the same before; it’d taken him nearly four years to convince Catherine to marry him after they found out about Alex.

Evgeni is not waiting that long. Over his cold, dead body.

He knows when to retreat and regroup though. Sid may have won this battle, but not the war. Evgeni will wear him down eventually.

Fuck this shared custody, single parenting idea Sid’s got stuck in his head. Evgeni wants his family. He loves Sidney, and he loves their child; he is not letting anyone keep him from them.

Not even Sid. Not when it’s so obvious that shared custody is the last thing he wants even if he thinks it’s the _right_ thing—Evgeni wouldn’t be fighting so hard for this if he’d thought it was something Sidney didn’t want.

“I don’t even know why you want to get married,” Sidney says. “You’ve always said marriage wasn’t for you.”

Evgeni winces at the truth of that. It’s not so much that he hasn’t wanted to settle down and get married one day, it’s that he’s always pictured Sid as the one he’d start his family with.

For a long time, Evgeni thought he would never get that chance. He’s been settling for a friends with benefits arrangement and whatever scraps of affection Sidney has deigned to give him, because he’s thought that was all he could get. Because he’s thought Sidney never wanted more.

Nealer used to despair of him, called him pathetic and joined an unholy alliance with Sanja to introduce men and women to him—anyone who could offer him what Sid wasn’t willing to. But what has Evgeni cared about that when loving Sidney is as easy and vital as breathing? When Evgeni would rather be unrequited in love and have Sidney in any way he can than not to have him at all.

Anything is better than nothing. That’s what Evgeni decided years ago, when Sid had looked at him after a night out, licked his lips and said, “You wanna?”

Their arrangement hasn’t been ideal, not when Evgeni has always wanted more, but he’d settle for it as long as Sidney was willing to have him.

If that meant remaining officially a bachelor with no family than Evgeni had resigned himself to that.

Anything to be with Sid.

Except now their circumstances have changed, now there is a baby, and Evgeni isn’t so sure that Sidney doesn’t love him after all. Sidney just needs a little help realising that.

Preferably before their child is born.

“People change opinion all the time, Sid,” he says with a shrug, because he doesn’t think Sid will appreciate how eager Evgeni is to have Sid become Sidney Crosby-Malkin.

He has a feeling _that_ is another war entirely. Probably one he will lose, but something Evgeni wouldn’t care about if Sid would just marry him already.

(Obviously the big fight will be which country their baby will play for. That’s Baby Crosby- _Malkin_. Of course.)


	103. Sid/Geno - mpreg, fuckbuddies, getting together (Pocket Full of Sand Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cubetoasty asked: "Hi! I've been rereading your fic tag (again) and I was wondering if you are ever going to update Pockets Full of Sand? I need to know if Geno convinces Sid to marry him before the baby is born. No pressure, but I would love to read more of the story!"
> 
> Okay, so I got to sit down and start writing for this verse…and what came out was a prequel of sorts. 

Before they are fuck buddies, before they are _Sid and Geno_ , before Pittsburgh, even, there is Sidney and there is Evgeni and there’s a chance meeting in Břeclav, Czech Republic. It’s August, and Sidney is just a few days past sixteen, young and foolish and humiliated by the 8-2 loss against the Czechs, by letting the bronze slip away from him, not even medaling—and isn’t he supposed to be the best? Isn’t he supposed to help his team? Isn’t he supposed to be the new Gretzky?

It’s what people have been telling him since he was fourteen. Earlier, even. It’s what _Gretzky_ has told told him.

Sidney is going to be the best player in the world, one day.

Not today. Today he wasn’t good enough.

He’s sulking by himself in a McDonald’s, stubbornly clinging to the familiarity of an American institution despite being Canadian. It’s not Timmie’s, not by a long shot, but a Big Mac is a Big Mac not matter the language, apparently, and Sidney is bummed out enough to justify the empty calories he devours stubbornly. He can wolf down a bowl of chicken and spaghetti to get the carbs he needs later.

He’ll be hungry again, anyway.

“Is good?”

Sidney startles mid-bite, guiltily looking up from his (second) Big Mac to a tall boy standing in front of him. A _cute_ , tall boy. He looks around Sid’s age. Sidney puts his burger down and wipes hurriedly across his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hi! Ehm, yes, hello. It’s good, yes. Did you want to try?” Sidney is babbling nervously, face pinking at the sight of the cute boy. He feels his cheeks heat when the boy grins at him, lifting his brows as he eyes the half-eaten burger Sidney is holding up in offer. Sidney holds back a groan by sheer force of will. He wishes the ground would open and swallow him whole.

_Why_ is he offering a boy he doesn’t even know his _half-eaten_ Big Mac?

The boy laughs, delighted. He takes the proffered burger and takes a bite, chewing obnoxiously as he pulls out a chair and sits down across from Sidney.

“Good,” he says, nodding in satisfaction. “More?” he asks hopefully when the rest of the Big Mac is gone. He widens his eyes, staring at Sidney pleadingly with his bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

Sidney is so fucking charmed he kind of wants to scream into a pillow from all the feelings.

“You buy?” The boy’s eyes twinkle with mischief, lips stretched into a grin.

Sidney bursts out laughing at the sheer audacity of the request, forgetting to cut off his stupid laugh in the process. The one that is an embarrassing high-pitched honk of a laugh. The one Dad calls his ‘goose laugh’ before rustling his hair fondly, as if Sid is six and not six _teen_.

The boy blinks at him, shocked for a moment, and then covers his face with both hands, laughing into his palms.

“Fuck you, you fucker!” Sid exclaims, insulted now. He knows it’s stupid, that it’s an idiotic thing to be worried about, but he’s been teased for his laugh all his life, not always in a friendly manner either, and with all the cameras that have started to follow him lately—it wasn’t something he was self-conscious about before, when there was hockey and that was what mattered. Now there are expectations and the future and the cameras, so many cameras, documenting his every step, scrutinising every detail about his hockey, about his body, about _him_.

Censoring himself is already a familiar game, and Sidney hates it. Hates the bright lights and the attention.

He just wants to play hockey.

“No, no, sorry. Sorry, okay?” The boy reaches across the table, grabbing Sid’s hand when he makes to leave. Their eyes meet, the boy offering a hesitant smile, another, “I’m sorry,” and doesn’t let go of Sidney’s hand.

“I like,” the boy says. He tugs at Sidney’s hand, urging him to sit back down. “Is cute.”

Sidney eyes him for a long moment, but there is no hint of deceit in the boy’s eyes. Only sincerity. Sidney sits.

“How many?” Sidney asks.

The boy tilts his head, visibly confused.

“Burgers. You asked if I would buy for you. How many do you want?”

The boy shakes his head. He squeezes Sidney’s hand gently before letting go. “I buy. You sit,” he says sternly, wagging his finger in Sidney’s face as if Sid is a particularly disobedient puppy liable to take off.

Sid can’t deny he thinks about making a break for it, to get away from this strange, cute tall boy, but the guy catches his eyes and stares at him solemnly.

Sidney feels oddly compelled to stay put.

“For you,” the boy says when he returns to their table. He holds out another Big Mac for Sidney, looking shy all of a sudden and a little eager.

“Thanks,” Sidney mumbles.

“Пожалуйста.”

Sidney blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Пожалуйста. It mean you’re welcome in Russian.”

“You’re Russian?” Sidney asks. He has a pronounced accent, but Sidney hasn’t been able to place it. He narrow his eyes thoughtfully as he looks the boy over. He straightens when he realises he recognises the boy. Sort of. “You’re on Team Russia!” Sidney pulls a face. “Sorry about the loss. That must suck.” Worse than not medaling must be to reach the finals only to come second, to be so close to gold and have it slip just out of reach. Sidney doesn’t ever want to be second best. He’s always been an all or nothing kind of guy.

The boy shrugs. “I have little bit cry, be angry for few hours, but then move on. Can’t win next game if too busy with sulk.” He looks at Sidney pointedly.

“I wasn’t sulking!” Sidney protests, though he totally had been. Whatever. He’d lost, sulking was required.

The boy hums doubtfully and takes a big bite of his burger.

They eat in silence for a while, and it’s a little awkward maybe, but Sidney is too hungry too care.

“I’m Sid, by the way,” he says when he’s done with his food. “Sidney Crosby.”

“Yes,” the boy agrees, smirking.

Sidney flushes. He doesn’t like to be presumptuous just because some people like to make a big deal out of him. He’s the youngest player in the tournament, though, and he knows there is media that have been talking about that a lot, maybe in favour of neglecting coverage of other players sometimes.

He waits for the other boy to introduce himself, but it never comes.

“What? You’re just not gonna tell me your name? That’s rude.”

“Don’t know?” The boy pokes out his tongue, teasing. “Not so popular like Sidney Crosby, hm?”

“That’s not—”

The boy laughs, and Sidney can’t help his own smile, relaxing into his seat when it becomes obvious that the boy is just chirping him. Sidney can handle that, and dish it out with the best of them. He’s a rink rat after all. Chirps are part of his language.

“My name Evgeni Malkin. One day, my name will be famous. Like yours.”

“Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin,” Sidney says, and laughs when the boy, Evgeni, winces at his pronunciation. “No? That bad, huh?”

“Maybe nickname for you.”

“What do your friends call you then?”

“Zhenya.”

Sid grins. “Zhenya,” he says, knowing he’ll get that wrong as well.

Evgeni winces again. “Maybe we make new nickname for you.”

“Maybe,” Sidney says, but doesn’t offer one right then. Nicknames takes time sometimes. They’re special. He doesn’t want to get this wrong; he doesn’t know if he will ever see Evgeni again after this, even with Evgeni’s assurance that his name will be as famous as Sidney’s one day. But. This doesn’t feel like a one-time meeting.

In fact, Sidney thinks they’re going to be great friends.

“How’d you get to be so good in English?” He shrugs when Evgeni looks at him curiously. “Sorry, I just know that learning a second language can be difficult. I’m learning French now, so.”

“Is because of Sanja.”

“Sanja?”

Evgeni nods. “Alexander Ovechkin. You know? He doesn’t play this tournament.”

“Of course! He’d gone first overall this year if he wasn’t born too late. I think he’s just three days past the cut-off day?”

“Two,” Evgeni corrects, holding up two fingers. “Sanja was born on 17 September, but NHL cut-off day is 15 September. He go to draft next year, with me.” Evgeni grins.

“You’re draft eligible next year?” Sidney asks, excited. “Is that why you’ve been learning English? Where do you think you’ll go? Where do you want to go?”

Sidney never does find out which team Evgeni would like to end up on. A couple of Sidney’s teammates bursts through the door before he ever gets a chance to answer.

They look around the restaurant frantically, sighing in relief when they spot Sidney.

“Sid! What the hell! We’ve been looking everywhere. Coach is freaking pissed. You can’t just take off like that without telling anyone. We though we’d lost you—”

They drag him out of the restaurant without so much as a by your leave. Sidney doesn’t even get a chance to tell Evgeni goodbye, or ask for his number so they can keep in touch.

No matter.

They will meet again. Sidney is sure of it.


	104. Sid/Geno - mpreg, fuckbuddies, getting together (Pocket Full of Sand Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chriandra asked: OK but my thirst for Sid/Geno mpreg fic. You are the only one that fills it, pls fill it more. I'm begging.

This is how Sidney gets pregnant:

In a hotel room in San Jose. Evgeni says, “ _Fuck_. Shit, wait, wait. Don’t have condom, Sid,” and the look Sidney gives him is so unimpressed Evgeni feels his cock wilt a little at the sight.

He curses himself for foregoing the condoms when he’d left Pittsburgh, but it’d felt as if he would be jinxing the team if he brought them along, especially after Game 5.

(Evgeni had _plans_ for after Game 5.)

“I swear to God, Geno, if you don’t put your dick in me right now I will find someone who will.”

Evgeni’s left eye twitches. He’ll bludgeon anyone who tries, possibly to death.

Still. Safe sex is important. Evgeni will never forgive himself if his summer schedule gets pushed back because of an STD. _Sidney_ will never forgive him.

“But—”

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill, remember? I’ll take a Plan B tomorrow morning, just in case.” And that’s another thing to worry about— _Jesus—_ but Evgeni can’t quite remember why when Sidney closes his teeth around his earlobe, tugging gently as he palms one hand over Evgeni’s cock just long enough for it to get back with the program.

It does. Quickly.

Evgeni groans helplessly. He hates it when Sidney plays dirty.

(Except he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t.)

Sidney smirks at him knowingly, and Evgeni watches, greedy, as he pulls away from him only to get on his hands and knees on the bed, back arched and ass pushed up towards Evgeni in invitation.

Evgeni will _never_ tire of this sight—or the fact that Sidney lets him see him like this. Trusts him to be this vulnerable with him.

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” Sidney asks, impatient even in this. God, he’s so bossy. Evgeni is so fucking gone on him it’s not even funny.

He releases another groan when Sidney grows tired of waiting for him and reaches behind himself to start teasing at his hole with his index finger, moaning breathlessly when he pushes it inside just past the rim.

And really, how the hell is Evgeni supposed to say no to that?

**

No man could.

**

As far as Cup celebratory sex goes, the hotel sex is definitely in Evgeni’s Top 10.

Unsurprisingly, Sidney makes up the rest of the list in its entirety.

Evgeni _really_ does not mind.

**

This is how Evgeni finds out that Sidney is pregnant:

In his parents’ house in Magnitogorsk. Evgeni says, “ _What?”_

“Pregnant,” Sidney repeats, cheerful.

Evgeni stares at him through the screen of his iPad. Sidney looks untroubled. He’s eating what looks like almonds drenched in honey by the spoonful. Spiced with sugar, or maybe salt. Evgeni can’t tell through the screen.

“Since _when?”_

“It definitely happened during the Cup celebration, probably in San Jose,” Sidney admits. “At the hotel.” He takes another spoonful; the almonds crunch loudly as he chews. “Apparently birth control pills aren’t a hundred per cent guarantee, and you’re not supposed to mix alcohol with the Plan B pills for men—which, you know, I did. Who knew, eh?”

Evgeni stares.

“Anyway,” Sidney says. “I thought about it, and I’m going through with the pregnancy. You’re the only one I’ve told. Besides my doctor, of course.”

“We having a _baby_?” Evgeni says, still dumbfounded over the fact that Sid is _pregnant_.

Evgeni knocked up Sidney Crosby.

Sanja is going to laugh himself to death.

“Well,” Sidney says. He smiles, all soft and gentle as he rubs one hand over his still-flat stomach. “ _I’m_ having a baby. You’re the father, though, so. Do you want to be involved? I won’t hold you to anything.”

_Does he want to be involved?_

“What,” Evgeni says again, flat. Who the hell does Sid think he is? “ _Of course_ will be involved. Is my baby.”

Evgeni is going to parent the hell out of that child.

Sidney shrugs, but he looks relieved—a little pleased, maybe.

Evgeni shakes his head. He can never tell what is going on inside Sidney Crosby’s head at any given time.

It’s a source of constant frustration.

“Are you in Pittsburgh? I’m coming back,” he says. He’s already looking up flight schedules on his phone.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m going to Cole Harbour, anyway. I have the hockey school. I’m not cancelling it just because I’m having a baby.”

“Fine,” Evgeni says, even though he maybe thinks Sid should. What if he falls on his stomach or something like that?

“I’m come help. Kids will be excite; I’m best.”

“Geno,” Sidney protests, but he’s clearly holding back a smile.

Evgeni snorts. As if Sidney could make him stay. Not when his…his _Sidney_ is pregnant with his kid.

Fucking hell.

Evgeni is going to be a dad.

His parents are going to be grandparents _—_ his mother will kill him for having a child out of wedlock.

Oh well, Evgeni thinks, watching as Sidney decimates his snack with the same intensity he gets when they’re down 2-0 in the third with only five minutes left on the clock and Sidney decides _fine, I’ll just have to do this myself._

He still has time.


	105. Sid/Geno - Mpreg, NSFW-ish, getting together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which (single) pregnant!Sid wants his best friend!Geno to have sex with him to kickstart his labour.

Watching the Friends episode where Rachel is sick of being pregnant and willing to try anything to get the baby out, even sex with Ross even though they’re just friends now.

Which makes me think of (single) pregnant!Sid aggressively asking best friend!Geno to please fuck him so he can go into labour already. (He’s a week overdue and his doctor suggested sex as one of the possible solutions to kickstart labour.)

Geno keeps denying him, stoically saying, “No,” because he knows Sid is frustrated and overdue and doesn’t really want this (or so he thinks).

Sid doesn’t know when to stop though. He’s never learnt to leave well enough alone; he keeps pestering G, even pulling the, “You don’t think I’m attractive anymore?” trump card.

It’s basically Geno’s undoing. “No, no, Sid! So beautiful. Always.”

“Then why won’t you have sex with me?”

 _Because I’m in love with you_ , Geno wants to say. _Because sleeping with you this once won’t be enough._

Because Geno loving Sid and have Sidney not love him back will break Geno’s heart. He won’t ever recover from that.

He wants to say all that, and more, but before he can Sidney says, “ _Please_ ,” and that’s all she wrote. Geno can’t say no.

“Okay. Okay, Sid. Make you feel good, promise.”

Sidney beams at him and reaches out with his hands. “Come here,” he says, gesturing for Geno.

He’s parked on Geno’s sofa, belly huge and cheeks round with pregnancy weight. He’s flushed because it’s summer and he’s always hot anyway now. He looks a mess.

And he’s the most beautiful thing Geno has ever seen.

Geno walks over to him, placing one knee on the couch so he can lean close. “You sure?” he asks, giving him an out, but Sidney only smiles.

“Kiss me,” he says, and Geno does, easy as anything. It’s strange. He’s kissing Sid, his best friend. His teammate and captain. They’re kissing, and it’s strange. But the strange part is how natural it feels. How good.

“Oh,” Sid says when they pull apart. “Oh. That was, yeah, we should do that again.” He’s reaching for Geno again, his arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring him close.

Geno can get on board with this.

It’s probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but it feels so good, like he could go on forever.

Which, of course, is when Sidney’s water breaks.

Geno is a little disappointed, but mostly relieved. “In labour, Sid!” he exclaims, excited. “Baby coming!“

Sid pushes his lips into a pout, sounding a little frustrated when he says, “Do you think we still have time to…” He waves his hand between them, wiggling his brows meaningfully, and looks so ridiculous Geno can’t help his grin.

“Don’t think so,” he says, but leans in to kiss Sid anyway.

Sidney kisses him back, gently, soft. “We should probably go to the hospital now, huh?”

Geno nods, his grin gentling to a smile. “Probably.”

(Sid spends 21 hours in labour before his baby boy is born. Geno holds his hand the whole time.

They fall into bed sometime in the next months and end up happily in love with Sid pregnant again and Cup babies. Lots and lots of Cup babies.)


	106. Sid/Geno - Kid!fic, domestic fluff, established relationship (Miss Piggy and Estelle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Piggy barks once and wiggles her little tail excitedly, and Estelle, while grinning wide and unrepentant, is shivering slightly. “Cold, Uncle Sid,” she tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: Sid/Geno “Wait right there, don’t move!” Please!!

Two pairs of eyes stare at him innocently, heads tilted to one side, and Sidney tries not to lose his stern face, he does, but they’re just so cute and Sid’s never been a disciplinarian in the first place.

Next to him, Geno shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

Sidney glares at him. “Shut up,” he hisses out under his breath, too low for Estelle and Miss Piggy to hear.

He turns back to the guilty pair in front of him, sighing at their drenched and muddy state. Miss Piggy barks once and wiggles her little tail excitedly, and Estelle, while grinning wide and unrepentant, is shivering slightly. “Cold, Uncle Sid,” she tells him.

“That’s what happens when you sneak out to play in the rain,” he says. He pauses, looking at her pointedly. “Even though you know you’re not supposed to,” he adds.

Estelle rocks on her feet and smiles at him sweetly. Sometimes, Sidney misses the days when she was so small she could barely walk. She never took such delight in defying his words then.

He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “All right, we better get you out of those clothes and into a bath.”

Estelle brightens, and she’s about to step further into the house when Sidney holds out his hand for her to stop. “No, wait right there, don’t move! Uncle Geno is gonna find some towels and then we’re gonna take off your clothes right here, okay? No need to drag the mud all over the floor.”

Geno laughs. “So bossy,” he says, but walks off to do as Sidney says, and when he returns a few minutes later with a couple of towels in hand, Sidney has managed to get Estelle out of her boots and jacket and is helping her step out of her soggy leggings.

“What about Miss Piggy, Uncle Sid?” Estelle asks when Sidney grabs one of the towels, wrapping her up tight before lifting her to rest at his hip. She looks down at the little pug on the floor, giggling at how the dog’s light fur is caked with mud. “Mama will be mad if we don’t clean Miss Piggy, too.”

Miss Piggy barks, as if to agree with this assessment.

“Yes,” Geno says. “Mama be very angry.” He bends to press a sloppy kiss to Estelle’s cheek, grinning at her excited squeal. When he straightens up, he steals a quick kiss from Sidney as well, his grin widening when Sid wrinkles his nose at him. “That’s why Miss Piggy get bath too,” Geno continues, and crouches to the floor, wrapping the second towel around the dog before gathering her into his arms.

“Tell me again why we agreed to babysit?” Sidney asks rhetorically as they’re walking up the stairs. He looks down to see Estelle blinking innocently up at him, and can’t help his chuckle. “Oh, please,” he says, “I already know you’re a rascal.” He tickles her stomach, laughing when she squeals and squirms in his hold. “Admit it! Admit you’re a rascal.”

“No. No, Uncle Sidney!” Estelle giggles wildly. “Am not a rascal!”

“I’m think you are,” Geno teases with a grin as he sneaks past them on the stairs, Miss Piggy barking her agreement from his arms.

Sidney grins and follows him into the bathroom where Geno has the tub filling with water in seconds.

In his arms, Estelle sighs, resting her head against Sidney’s shoulder contentedly as they wait for the tub to fill.

Geno turns to look at them, smiling gently when he meets Sid’s eyes.

Sidney smiles back. He presses his nose against Estelle’s hair, breathing in her sweet scent, and thinks three months from now, it will be their child in his arms.

As if reading his mind, Geno says, “Soon.”

Sidney nods, feeling as if he’ll explode he’s so happy. “Soon,” he agrees, and knows it is true.


	107. Sid/Geno + Conor Sheary - Time travel, mpreg, outside POV (Looking Back Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conor Sheary POV. The first time Conor meets his dad he’s fifteen and his dad has been dead as many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> If you're still doing prompts can you do a sid/geno with a kid somewhere in there?

When Conor is five, his papa wipes the tears from his eyes and promises that Maria is just being mean, and that Daddy loved him very much and still watches over him.

Conor offers up a smile for his papa, but inside he’s thinking how unfair it all is–a little part of him can’t help but wonder if Maria is right. If Daddy really would be disappointed in him.

Conor meets his dad for the first time when he’s fifteen. His dad has been dead as many years, but stands before Conor, young and healthy and smiling and _alive_.

Conor thinks he can’t be more than twenty years old.

“Did you want me to sign something for you? What’s your name?”

There’s a marker in Dad’s hand, and he’s looking at Conor earnestly and with no shred of recognition.

Why would he? Sidney Crosby never got to meet his youngest child before he died.

“I–- Conor,” Conor chokes out finally, and watches as his dad’s smile widens, his eyes crinkling with it. He’s gorgeous, full of live and youth, and Conor can so easily see his papa falling flat on his face for him.

Head over heels in love before he ever really knew what love was.

(Conor has heard the stories so many times.)

“Conor,” Sidney says. “It’s a good name. I like it.”

Conor swallows painfully. “Yeah,” he says. “My dad picked it out, before he died.”

Sidney’s eyes widen, his smile turning awkward. “Oh. I’m, uh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” He shuffles on his feet, his hands finding his pockets even with the pen in his right one.

It’s the first time Conor time travels.

(It’s not the last.)


	108. Sid/Geno + Conor Sheary - Time travel, mpreg, outside POV (Looking Back Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> In honor of angry mama!bear Sid tonight, could we pretty please have an update on time-travelling tiny peanut Conor Sheary?

The second time Conor travels he is still fifteen, though Dad is much older. And pregnant. Very pregnant.

They’re in what looks to be a doctor’s office; Dad rubbing one hand at his back and the other over his stomach as he waddles back and forth, mumbling to himself all the while. He hasn’t noticed Conor yet.

There is grey in Dad’s hair, laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He looks older but no less beautiful. Conor stares at him greedily, willing himself to burn the memory of him to his brain; Conor doesn’t ever want to forget.

This is only the second time he’s seen his dad alive. Conor wants to scream and laugh and cry all at the same time. He wants to close his arms around Dad and never let go.

He wants his dad to be alive in his own time.

“Who are you?”

Conor flushes, panicked, when Dad notices him. He sees the way Dad startles, halting mid-step, shoulders stiff before he relaxes as he looks Conor over, maybe deciding that Conor poses no threat to him.

Papa says that Dad used to be an excellent judge of character. 

“Are you lost?” his dad continues patiently. Conor doesn’t think he recognises him. Why would he? It would have been a five-minute meeting the first time they met, years and years ago to his dad. Not the six days it’s been for Conor.

“I—yes. Sorry.”

Dad smiles at him. Conor wishes he could bottle it, take it out when he’s feeling sad, let it warm him up from the inside out.

_“Your dad was always beautiful, but never as much as when he smiled at you.”_

That’s what Papa says. Conor hadn’t understood, because Dad always _is_ beautiful, in all the pictures he’s seen, smiling or not.

But now. The pictures never captured the twinkle in Dad’s eyes, the twitching of his mouth, as if he’s seconds away from bursting into a laugh—the way Conor feels at the receiving end of it, as if Dad only has eyes for him, as if there is no one else in the whole world Dad would rather smile at.

Conor hates that this is what he’s been missing out on for fifteen years. Hates that all of his siblings have had this when Conor never did.

“Are you here with someone?” Dad asks. “You look a little young to be here by yourself.”

It takes Conor a minute to realise that Dad is asking if he’s there for the same reason as him, only catching on when Dad looks at Conor’s flat stomach and raises his brows in question.

Conor sputters. Because _no_. He hasn’t even had _sex_ yet and Dad is asking if he’s pregnant. Conor has never been so embarrassed in all his life.

“No!” he blurts out. “I’m here for my dad,” he says before he can think up a better lie even though it’s actually the truth. “He’s pregnant,” he finishes lamely.

Dad laughs. “You’re a good son,” he says, as if he thinks Conor really is, as if he just _knows_. “I’m sure your dad appreciates you tagging along. My kids are here too.” Dad makes a face, rolling his eyes fondly. “They’re in the waiting room with their papa though. They’ve been banned from coming in with me,” he admits.

Conor rolls his own eyes, because he absolutely believes the twins would have been banned from the freaking doctor’s office. They’ve always been trouble.

“How many kids do you have?” he asks, even though he knows. He knows that—

“Four, soon to be five.”

—it’s Conor inside Dad’s stomach. He can tell by Dad’s age, past forty, Conor knows—because Conor was a surprise baby, eight years younger than Maria and ten years younger than the twins. Even Nikky is fourteen years older than Conor.

It had been a high-risk pregnancy, so much so that Dad had been advised to terminate, that the chances of them both making it to term were distressingly slim.

He’d refused.

“Five seems like a lot,” Conor says quietly.

Dad laughs again. “Not to me,” he says, and he’s still smiling, still breathing in and out, inhale, exhale. “I finally have enough for my own hockey team.”

Conor barks out a surprised laugh at that. “Don’t you need six though?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Dad admits, looking a little sheepish. “But with just the five I get to play goalie.” He grins at Conor, as if they’re sharing an inside joke.

Conor doesn’t quite get it, but he laughs anyway. It’s either that or cry.

“I, uh, I should probably go, find my dad, you know.” Conor doesn’t want to, but he can feel a peculiar tingling in his palms, the same he’d felt the first time, just before he’d been dragged back to his own time. He’d only lasted about five minutes in the past then; it must have been closer to thirty minutes now.

“Oh. Right. Well, it was nice to meet you…?”

“Conor,” Conor says when Dad looks at him expectantly. It’s the second time he’s asked for Conor’s name.

Dad beams. “Conor.” He rubs his stomach gently. “That’s my little one’s name as well.”

Conor clears his throat, blinks the tears from his eyes. “It’s a good name,” he says. It’s the best name; Dad chose it.

“Well. I’m Sid. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Conor looks at him, drinks in the sight of him for as long as he can without making it weird. He wants to ask him why.

_Why did you go through with the pregnancy when you knew it could kill you? When it did._

“Yeah,” Conor says. “I hope so.”


	109. Sid/Geno + Conor Sheary - Time travel, mpreg, outside POV (Looking Back Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> "will you continue with the time traveling connor series?"
> 
> I will! And here is a snippet (I am officially including Jake Guentzel into this verse as time-travelling!Conor’s time-travelling brother from another dimension. I know. It’s complicatedXDD)

Jake scowls at him, eyeing the beard jealously. “I’m just saying. It’s not fair. We share the same genes.” He pats at his barren cheeks. “How come you can grow a beard but I can’t?”

“I’m half Russian,” Conor says, smirking.

“ _I’m_ half Russian!” Jake squawks. “We _share the same genes!_ ”

Conor snickers. They might be from different dimensions, might both be time-travelling, but they are brothers, and Jake takes more after Dad than Papa. Sidney Crosby’s inability to grow a beard has been well documented.

In all fairness, Papa can’t grow much of one either, and Conor is a pretty even split between Sid and Geno, but he seems to have inherited the Russian genes that lets him grow a full beard at least.

Back in his own time, Dedushka used to joke that it skipped a generation, because Papa couldn’t grow a decent beard even well into his fifties but Conor could already at fif _teen_.

(Grandpa never joked about anything like that. He was only ever sad when he looked at Conor. “You remind him so much of your dad,” Grandma always said, which was followed, inevitably, by, “Sidney would have been so proud of you, you know.”

And Conor would smile and nod even as he didn’t know; he never got to meet his dad in his own timeline.)


	110. Sid/Geno + Conor Sheary - Time travel, mpreg, outside POV (Looking Back Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Anonymous asked:  
> How does time-travelling-future-son-of-Sidney-Crosby!Conner Sheary feel about being out of the playoffs due to injury and having to watch his brother?parallel-universe-time-travelling-son-of-Sidney-Crosby!Jake Guentzel light it up with his/their parents?

Conor sees Dad go down and stay down. He swallows, looking away from where Dad is struggling just to focus his eyes, and he sees Jake.

His brother has gone grey, all the blood drained from his cheeks. He looks about as sick as Conor feels.

He wonders who feels the fear more acutely. Jake sees the parent who raised him, the guy who kissed all his hurts away and held him when he cried.

Conor sees the dad he never met, the one he’s learning to know now. He sees the guy he’s spent all his life longing for, wondering what he was like and hating that he never got to find out.

Until now.

For a wild, brief second, time stops and Conor thinks, _What if he doesn’t get up? What if this is it?_

What if he won’t get another moment with him?

But then Sidney is being helped to his feet and time starts moving again. He doesn’t look right, but he’s mustering up a smile in Conor’s direction. Conor hadn’t even realised he’d jumped over the boards.

Sidney says, “I’m okay,” and it’s not until Conor hears the gutted, “ _Sid_ ,” behind him that he understands that Dad isn’t looking at Conor, but at Papa.

Because Dad doesn’t know yet. Papa doesn’t know.

Only Jake and Conor know about the bond they share—blood ties, yes, but not a family, not really. Not when they’ve lived their lives separated by time and reality where one parent is alive where the other is dead.

They could be a family, though, Conor thinks, hopes, and knows that that is what Jake wants too—if fate doesn’t screw them over and lets Sid and Geno be together the way they should have been in either time, in either dimension.

There’s no time to worry about it. They still have a game to play, and Conor can’t even look at Alex, a man that is as good as his uncle. A man that has seen Conor grow up.

Conor turns away from him and thinks, _You loved him too._

In his own time, he reminds himself, though he wonders if Alex still has feelings for Sidney in this time.

“You stole him from me, you know,” he overheard Alex tell Papa before, solemn and sad, usually two beers short of drunk.

“I know,” Papa had said, equally as solemn, and then, “I miss him.”

Conor feels off the rest of the game. They make it to the first intermission and Dad isn’t even in the locker room. Only Papa is allowed to see him in the dark room. Conor’s eyes meet Jake’s, and he sees his own worry reflected back at him.

Three minutes into the second, Conor goes down as well.

“Fuck. Shit, Shearsy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Conor knows Horny hadn’t meant to run him over, but jesus, the man is built like a freight train.

“I can’t—I can’t see straight,” he says, and then Chris is there and he’s being helped off the ice.

“Done for the game,” he hears Chris tell Sully before they make their way down the tunnel.

Done for the game. Done for the playoffs, he fears. His head is killing him.

He’s led into the dark room. Dr. Vayas is there, but no Dad, and then Conor hears the retching. He looks at the closed door to the en-suite. “Should he—?” He grimaces as Sidney throws up again, clearly audible even from this side of the door. “Is it okay for him to be alone in there?”

“Sarah is with him,” Dr. Vayas says. “She’ll take good care of him.” And Sarah is about as good a medical assistant as they come, but Conor still worries. “Now let me check you over. How’s your reaction time?”

Conor very definitely has a concussion. So does Dad.

He worries more about Dad than himself. He tries to think back to the times Papa had mentioned Dad’s concussions. Did it happen like this before?

Are Jake and Conor changing things by being in the past? By merging two dimensions?

“I don’t know,” Jake whispers, later, back in the apartment they share with Rusty and Junior. “I don’t remember Dad talking about this.” He curls closer around Conor on the bed, careful not to jostle him. “Are you okay?”

Conor swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “Good as I can be, I guess.” He misses Papa, _his_ Papa, misses his brothers and sisters. It helps having Jake here, but Conor still can’t help the homesicknesses, the wondering if he’s stuck in the past forever. It’s been almost two years.

“We’re not ever going back to our own timelines, are we?” It slips out before he can stop it. He’s got Jordan here, the team, Jake, _Sid_. But he misses being a son, a brother.

He misses home.

“I don’t know,” Jake says again.

They don’t speak more that night.


	111. Sid/Geno + Conor Sheary - Time travel, mpreg, outside POV (Looking Back Part 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> In honor of his birthday today do you think you could give us a little more time-traveling Conor Sheary? I just love that verse so much <3

Conor stumbles over them in the early hours of the morning.

He’s hungover, or possibly still drunk—one of the two. He’s looking for the bottle of aspirin Jake claimed was in one of the trainers’ room. The hotel hallway feels impossibly long on his wobbly legs, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the exhaustion finally catching up to him that has him moving so shakily.

He’s humming to himself, absent and off key. And then he hears it. His papa’s voice.

Conor straightens automatically. He forces himself to focus, blinking his eyes until the edges of his vision doesn’t seem so fuzzy anymore.

When he rounds the corner of the hallway, he sees them. His parents.

They’re standing close together. Dad’s arms are wound tight around Papa’s neck, his face burrowed into his collarbone. Papa is clutching at Dad’s waist.

He’s talking in Russian, Conor realises, words muffled by where he’s nosing at Dad’s hair.

It takes Conor a second for his brain to translate the words, and when he does, he blushes, because that’s his parents, even if they’re not his parents _yet_. It’s nothing shocking, nothing filthy or scandalous that would scar any child for life.

Instead it’s sweet. It’s—

Conor knows that Sid and Geno have been orbiting each other for a very long time. He knows that their relationship is complicated, that there’s been lovers and partners and Sid and Geno, always together but not the way everyone thinks they should be. Not the way everyone can see _they_ want to be.

Now though. His papa is whispering sugar-sweet words to his dad, words of love and affection and something not meant for anyone’s ears but Sidney’s.

This is a confession of love.

And Conor is their son, is _going to be_ their son, but this moment is not for him. This is theirs, Sid and Geno’s, alone.

Conor smiles at them, unseen, and takes his leave.

He thinks, _They’re going to be okay._


	112. Sid/Geno - Mpreg, abortion, miscarriage, friends to lovers (Little Pieces)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 times Sidney couldn’t, or wouldn’t + one time he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I've noticed a lot of fics in the fandom (either mpreg or with a female character getting pregnant) often include the person having the choice to have an abortion, but they never take it. Would it be possible for you to either write something short with someone voluntarily having an abortion, or could you direct me to a fic with that? Thanks!!!

Sid is fifteen the first time.

Dad is with him, stone faced and tight lipped. Sidney’s legs are in a stirrup, his feet strapped in. Dad holds his hand while the doctor explains the procedure one more time.

“You could give it up for adoption,” Dad says quietly before the doctor begins. She waits, eyeing the two of them, patient.

Sidney shakes his head. He’d never be able to go through with it. To feel the child grow inside of him and then have to give it up, knowing his kid was out there somewhere. This is the only solution.

His dad is Catholic. He doesn’t believe in abortion, but he’s still here, holding Sidney’s hand when he needs it.

“You could keep it. Take a year off. Your mother and I will help you.”

“Dad…” Sidney’s voice breaks. He’s fifteen. He doesn’t want to take a year off, doesn’t want to give up hockey.

He doesn’t want a baby.

Dad sighs, shaky on the exhale. He nods once, sharp, and squeezes Sidney’s hand. Gently.

It’s a startling contrast.

“Okay then,” Dad says. “If you’re sure.”

Sidney is sure.

**

The second time is in Montreal.

He’s out with the team, celebrating his shootout goal, and the guy who takes him to bed is tall and dark-haired and selfish in all the best ways, in the way that means he throws Sidney around a little, leaves finger-shaped bruises on Sidney’s hips and fucks in hard exactly the way Sidney wants it.

“Harder,” he gasps out, and the guy slaps his ass in punishment.

When Sidney shows up at the hotel in the early hours of the morning, Army yells at him, cursing him out for being irresponsible and disappearing off with some stranger without letting anyone know. “I had to cover for you with Coach,” he hisses out. “They did rounds.” He glares when Sidney only laughs at this.

“Did you even use protection?” he asks, and when Sidney freezes, face draining of colour because _no_ , he hadn’t, and he’s not on the pill, Army loses some of his steam. “Fucking hell,” he says, and gets his jacket and shoes.

Army is the one who pays for the morning-after pills at the register of the drugstore. He presses the pills into Sidney’s hand, silent and non-judging.

Sidney takes one, swallowing it dry. He is eighteen.

**

The third time is after their first Cup win.

Falling into bed with Geno wasn’t something he’d planned on. It just kind of happened. Sidney hardly even remembers it—he can recall soft touches, Geno’s voice a warm, comforting buzz in his ear, and giggling. He remembers feeling happy.

Sidney wakes up alone.

Two months later, Geno comes back to Pittsburgh with a tan and a girlfriend on his arm. Sidney takes a pregnancy test that comes back positive. He schedules an appointment at the clinic that same afternoon.

He never tells Geno.

**

The forth time is a miscarriage. He hadn’t known he was pregnant before the cramps started and his hand came back red when he reached down towards his lap.

“Uncle Sid?” Maeva says, scared.

Sidney swallows painfully. “Go get your dad,” he says, as evenly as he can manage. “Tell him I need to go to the hospital.” Duper is in the rec room with the rest of the Dupuis brood. It’s just Sidney and Maeva in the kitchen, working on Maeva’s history project. “Make sure your brother and sisters stay where they are,” he tells her.

When Duper comes running into the kitchen, he goes pale at the sight of Sidney, of the blood that is dripping down the side of Sidney’s chair.

“Hospital,” Sidney grits out before Duper can say anything.

Duper has to help him out into the car. They arrive too late for the doctors to do anything but apologise for his loss and explain that they need to perform a D&C.

There is no Dad to hold his hand this time, but there is Duper, and Flower and Tanger when Duper insists he calls them. And there is Geno, who cries and cries and holds Sidney’s other hand and kisses the side of his head. He says, “So sorry, Sid,” over and over, whispering the words against Sidney’s hair.

Geno is not the father, but there isn’t anyone in the world Sid would rather have by his side as the doctors clean out his insides, ridding him of the child he’s already lost.

**

The fifth time is during his concussion.

“Frankly, I’m amazed you haven’t miscarried already considering the stress your body is under right now,” the doctor says carefully. He peers at Sidney from over the top of his spectacles, brows furrowed deeply. Sidney can barely focus on him. His head is spinning, spinning, spinning.

He can’t remember where the doctor came from.

“It’s a viable pregnancy,” the doctor says finally, “but in Sidney’s current condition, I’m not sure how wise it is to go through with it. It’s my understanding that there is no timetable for his recovery.”

There is no _plan_ for his recovery. None that is working. It’s been weeks and if anything, Sidney is getting worse.

No one knows if he’ll be able to play again.

“What do you recommend doctor?”

Sidney tries to focus on Mario’s voice, but it’s hard. It’s hard to focus on anything with his head feeling as if it’s exploding from the inside out. There’s acid burning up his throat. He wants to throw up.

“It’s up to Sidney, really. There is no reason why he couldn’t have this baby, but if his concussion continues like this, it won’t be a pleasant pregnancy.”

Sidney thinks that is a bit of an understatement. He can’t imagine going through months of pregnancy and feeling like he does now—like nothing in the world will ever be right again. Like life is nothing but pain and his head spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Schedule an abortion,” Sidney rasps out, because he can’t go through that. He won’t. He doesn’t know when he’ll recover from the concussion, if it’s soon or months or years from now.

Some days it feels as if he never will.

He won’t put a child through that, as much as he wants one. As ready as he feels now, to be a parent.

“If you’re sure?” the doctor asks.

Sidney is sure. He always is.

**

His maternal grandmother was the oldest of eight kids. She used to joke about Sidney’s great grandparents, about how her mother would push out a child once a year.

“Like rabbits, the two of them were,” she said. “My father would just look at my mother and boom, she was up the duff again.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Sidney’s mother would say, exasperated and half scandalised, and Sidney’s grandmother would laugh and laugh and tell her daughter to lighten up a bit.

Sidney feels a little like his great grandmother. Fertile. Like if someone just looks at him the right way, it’ll take.

He knows there are people who struggle for years before they get pregnant. Knows that there are those who never manage it.

Sidney is not one of those people. The Penguins win the Cup again, after seven long, torturous years, and when Sidney falls into bed with Geno, it feels right.

He remembers everything from that night, and when he wakes in the morning, it’s with Geno’s arms around him and Geno snoring against his neck. Sidney smiles, snuggles back into Geno’s hold and falls back a sleep.

On his hotel dresser, the Cup stands watch over them.

Two months later, Geno comes back to Pittsburgh with a tan and a tattoo. He grins when he sees Sidney and reels him into his arms, pressing butterfly kisses all over Sidney’s face and laughing when Sidney giggles and tries to squirm away, so happy he could burst from it. Sidney takes a pregnancy test that same afternoon, and it comes back positive. It’s like seven years ago, but not the same at all.

Sidney clutches the test in his hand, an excited grin on his face.

He tells Geno.


	113. Sid/Geno - mpreg, fertility issues, established relationship (Hollow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All they want is a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: "s/g pregnant sex and/or trying to get pregnant"
> 
> I’ve got another prompt for pregnant sex, so i’m gonna do the trying to get pregnant one. Fair warning, this turned sad. So, so sad. Sorry in advance :/

*

**_Now_ **

**_*_ **

They’ve been trying for seven months when Geno storms out the door. He leaves Sidney behind in their big house, as hollow and empty as Sidney’s insides.

Two weeks go by before Geno comes back.

**_*_ **

**_Then_ **

**_*_ **

“How long?”

Sidney chews on his bottom lip. He checks the time before glancing up at Geno. “Still another minute,” he says.

Geno groans. He collapses back against the bed, splaying his limbs wide. “Why one minute take so long? Longest minute ever.”

“God, I know,” Sidney says. He looks down at the little window display on the pregnancy test in his hands, but it’s still blank, the same as it’s been since Sidney peed on it nearly ten minutes ago.

They wait, Sidney mentally counting down the seconds until the timer on his phone goes off.

“Well?” Geno demands at the tell-tale ping. “What it say?”

Sidney holds his breath, feels the excitement building as he checks the test again. “It’s…it’s negative. I’m not pregnant.” He deflates, his head falling back to rest against the bed frame.

Geno is silent for a while. He shifts on the mattress, moving to the end of the bed until he can peer over the edge, watching Sid where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Is just first test,” he points out. “Not everyone get pregnant on first try.”

“I know.”

Sidney already knew that. The doctors had even warned them it might take a while; Sidney had been on contraceptives for so long, it would probably take some time before his system was completely rebooted, so to speak.

He looks up, smiling at the face Geno pulls for him. “Stop,” Sid says. “You look ridiculous.”

“You look ridiculous.” Geno grins at him. He wiggles his brows. “Want try again?”

Sidney licks his lips, noting the way Geno’s eyes go dark as they trace the movement of his tongue.

“Hell yeah,” he breathes out, and joins his husband on the bed.

**_*_ **

**_Now_ **

**_*_ **

“Sid.”

Sidney looks away from the window, eyeing Geno dispassionately. Everything he does these days is dispassionate.

“You’re back. Where did you go?”

Geno winces at the question, the expression that shifts across his face a mix of guilt and barely suppressed anger. “Russia. I—I went home.”

“Home.” Sid snorts. “Right,” he says, “you went home. Because this isn’t home for you, clearly.”

“That’s not fair.” Geno walks over to him, crouching down by Sidney’s chair. He reaches out slowly, hesitant as he places a cautious hand on Sidney’s leg, circling his fingers around it. “Not fair,” he repeats when Sidney just stares at him, saying nothing.

“Sidney—”

Sidney sneers. He very deliberately does not raise his voice when he says, “No, what’s not fair is my husband walking out on me. What’s not fair is that you didn’t tell me where you were for two weeks. Two weeks, Geno!” He takes a steadying breath and holds Geno’s gaze. “You left me.”

Geno flinches at the accusation, and Sidney takes pleasure in his hurt. Wants to cut into him until Geno feels even a fraction of the pain Sidney has bundled inside of him, great and terrible and all consuming—so fucking painful it’s all Sidney can do to keep on breathing most days.

“I was sad and angry and in pain,” Sidney goes on. “And you just left.” His voice breaks on the words, and Geno makes a strangled noise, pressing his forehead against Sidney’s knees.

“I’m sad too! I’m angry, I’m hurt. Is not just you, Sid.” Geno’s eyes tear up.

Sidney watches as tears gather and spill, trailing down his cheeks in uneven torrents.

He wants to scream. Wants to yell and rage. He wants to know why Geno wasn’t there two weeks ago, when Sid was the one crying, when he was so hurt there were no words to describe it and all he could do was cry and cry until eventually, his eyes dried up and all that was left was silence and empty space.

“You left me,” he says again, and he’s angry now, his words laced with his fury. “You left me and I—”

“I couldn’t stay!”

“ _Why_?”

Geno wipes a his cheeks, and when he next meets Sidney’s eyes, he looks ashamed. “Because I’m fail. Fail at being good husband, fail at giving you baby. I—I let you down and I don’t know what to do, how to fix for you, so I’m leave.” Geno breathes in shakily. “I was wrong and a coward. I’m sorry, Sid. So sorry.”

Sidney stares at him. “You’re right, you are a coward. I don’t understand why you thought leaving would make it better,” he says. He feels empty. Drained.

He pushes at Geno to make him move back and stands from his chair. “I’m going to go stay with Mario for a few days.” He walks over to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

When he turns to look over his shoulder, Geno is staring back at him sadly. “I’m glad you came back,” Sidney tells him quietly, because he loves him and because it’s true—despite everything.

He leaves before Geno can respond.

**_*_ **

**_Then_ **

*

Sidney laughs, lifting one leg to wrap around Geno’s hip.

“This is insane,” he says, and then moans when Geno fastens his mouth over his neck, sucking a hickey into his skin.

God, his husband can be such a jerk. There’s no hiding that mark when they stumble out of the supply closet later.

Geno pulls back to grin at him. “You ovulate now, da? Doctor say best chance of get pregnant is now.” He leers at Sidney. “Have to do as doctor say.”

“But, ah, we have a game, oh, Geno! Fuck!” Sidney slams his head back, eyes rolling in pleasure when Geno’s fingers drag through his slick, fingering Sid’s hole open in preparation for his cock.

Geno smirks. He kisses him hard, panting against Sidney’s mouth. “You say something?” he teases, grunting when Sidney wraps a hand around his dick and squeezes in punishment.

“I was saying,” Sidney says, easing up on his grip and letting his hand slide up Geno’s shaft. “That we have a game in forty-five minutes.”

Geno smiles at him. He presses closer, resting his forehead against Sidney’s and pressing a gentle kiss to his nose. “We have to be quick then, no?”

If Sidney hadn’t been so preoccupied, he’d be embarrassed to realise that anyone walking past the small room could hear them quite clearly.

**_*_ **

**_Now_ **

*

Sidney gets two false positives before another five tests and a trip to the doctors confirms he’s still not pregnant.

Geno holds his hand through it, stone-faced and solid. He’s a comforting presence, always there since their fight, and Sidney takes solace in that. It helps ground him when the hollowness inside of him gets too much, when Sidney feels so empty and so light not even gravity can keep him from floating off into nothingness.

Geno is the one who holds him back, with his patience and unwavering love.

“I don’t think we should try anymore,” Sidney says when they come home from the hospital.

Geno gasps, looking so broken Sidney feels it like a blow to his side. “Sidn—”

“I can’t do it anymore, G. If I see another minus on one of those stupid tests—” He breaks off when Geno gathers him into his arms, tucking Sidney’s head under his chin. They stand in the middle of the foyer, Sidney sobbing into Geno’s chest. “I can’t be minus one person anymore. I just can’t. It hurts too much.” He sucks in a breath, struggling to speak through his sobs. “I want a baby so bad,” he tells Geno. “It’s all I think about, but I cannot keep doing this. I just can’t. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Okay,” Geno whispers into his hair, and Sidney closes his eyes tight. He can hear how much it hurt him to say it, and it hurts him too, but Sidney is just done. He’s empty, has nothing left to give.

Geno swallows loudly. “Okay. It’s okay. It be just you and me. We’ll be happy just you and me, right?”

Sidney nods. It’s not what they wanted, but Sidney can be content with that, he can. Geno has never made him unhappy. “Yes.” He looks up, leaning in to give Geno a wet kiss. “You make me happy. I love you.”

Geno gives him a teary smile, sad and bittersweet. “Love you too,” he says.

**_*_ **

**_Then_ **

**_*_ **

Most of the guys have called it a night, only Flower and Tanger there when Duper asks them, “So how long has it been now?”

Geno heaves a huge sigh. He leans back in his seat, the hand he has resting on the back of Sidney’s chair lifting to grip at the back of his neck in comfort. “Five months now,” he says.

The guys share an uneasy look.

“And still no luck? Nothing?” Tanger asks, looking from Geno to Sidney.

Sidney shakes his head. “Nothing. The doctor keeps saying there’s nothing wrong with either of us, that we just have to keep trying.” He looks down at the table, feels the emptiness inside him like poison. “Who knew making a baby would be this hard, eh?”

“Sid—”

“I’m fine, really.” He grimaces. “Sorry, I’m being melodramatic tonight. Don’t mind me.”

Flower reaches over the table and places his hand on Sidney’s. “Hey, this stuff is hard, okay? It’s okay to be upset. We’re your friends, you don’t have to put on a brave face for us.

Sidney smiles, but it’s a small, forced thing. “Thanks, guys,” he says, and he is grateful, he is, but it’s hard to feel anything but the overwhelming longing and sadness he’s become so accustomed to. Everyday he’s not pregnant gets a little harder, a little darker.

Sidney has never known something he wanted so bad to hurt this much. It’s an ache he feels everyday, an open wound of longing and frustration that refuses to close.

He turns his head to see Geno looking back at him; he imagines the misery in his eyes must be mirrored in his own.

“Think we call it a night now,” Geno says, and Sidney closes his eyes in relief, glad he doesn’t have to pretend to be okay anymore—at least not tonight.

He stands from his seat, offering the guys a quiet goodnight before he lets Geno guide him out of the room. He rests his head on Geno’s shoulder when he wraps an arm around his waist.

“We’ll be okay, right?” he asks.

Geno looks down at him. He tightens his grip on Sidney. “We’ll be okay,” he says, and Sidney smiles, hearing the promise in his words.

“Okay.”


	114. Sid/Geno + Steve Downie - Wishbabies AU, matchmaking, pre-relationship (Faith, Trust and Pixie Dust)

It starts, surprisingly enough, with Steve.

See, the thing is, Sid and Geno have been gone on each other for years, and it is one of those best kept not-really-secrets in the league, but no one has ever done anything about it.

“Army tried once,” Flower tells him when he brings it up, “but they were so young, and Geno wasn’t exactly single at the time. He left them to it in the end.”

So, some guy Steve has never met tried getting his captain and alternate together once upon a time, and clearly did a piss poor job of it. (Steve can maybe admit that it was the right thing to do. He’s no home wrecker and he wouldn’t want his captain to be made into one either.)

Things have changed, though. They’re older now, both of them single, and so fucking in love it’s legitimately disgusting. Just the other day, Sid had come scurrying into the locker room, his hair an absolute mess, one triplet on either hip and another on the baby-carrier on his back.

Sid doesn’t even get the chance to open his mouth before Geno is there, claiming two of the triplets and looking from the babies to Sid with obvious delight.

“Sid!” he says. “What babies do here? Too young for skate.” He’s teasing, but Steve can’t help but roll his eyes. He isn’t sure who is more eager for the triplets’ first skate, Sid or Geno. They’re too young now, of course. Sid only wished them into existence seven months ago.

Steve has only been in Pittsburgh since September, and the babies arrived before him; he wasn’t there to see how Geno acted around Sid before that, but he has an inkling.

Sid sighs, fiddling with the straps of the baby carrier now that Geno has liberated his daughters. “Cora called in sick,” he says as he gently extracts the baby from the carrier. The baby coos at him, smacking his lips together when he sees Sid. “Hey, little man. There you are.”

“Sid,” Kuni says, watching him fondly as he tries to regain his attention.

Steve shakes his head at them. He’s not a baby person, really, but Sid is, even before the triplets arrived–the guys are lucky to get his attention at all, now, if his children are near.

“The nanny called in sick, you said.”

Sid looks up, blinking at the faces looking back at him. “Oh, right. Cora called in sick at the last minute. She threw up on the bus this morning and didn’t want to risk the triplets. I tried calling Nathalie, but I couldn’t get through, and by then it was so late I figured I’d just bring them here.”

Steve nods, but some of the other guys, all fathers, seem disapproving. Steve doesn’t get why until Duper speaks.

“You should have called Carol-Lynne, or one of us. We would have worked it out. You know better than to bring them with you to practice,” he scolds gently. “This is the third time this month. They’ll never get used to being away from you if you don’t leave them behind.”

Sid tightens his hold on the little tyke in his arms, but looks utterly unrepentant as he says, “I don’t want them to get used to it. I’m their daddy; I shouldn’t be leaving my babies behind.”

Geno snorts a little. “Always come back, Sid,” he says logically, and hoists the girls in his arms a little. They squeal happily, hands clapping at Geno’s face to demand his attention. Geno smiles at them, dipping his head to playfully nip at their little fingers.

Sid stares at the sight they make, so obviously besotted that Steve can’t help but rolling his eyes again.

Beau catches him at it. “It’s like watching a romcom, isn’t it?” he says quietly, and Steve chuckles despite himself. He’s more of an action guy himself, but he imagines The Story of Sid and Geno fulfil all the requirements of a ‘romcom’ as Beau put it.

“It’s obvious they’re in love, and they’ve basically been co-parenting for months now; why aren’t they together?”

Beau shakes his head. “It’s not our business.”

“It should be,” Steve mumbles to himself as the guys make their way onto the ice, Sid staying behind to talk Dana and his boys into babysitting the triplets. Not that they need much convincing. Not with Geno standing behind Sid, glaring at the maintenance guys as if daring them to decline. 

Steve snorts. The pining has been going on too long, he decides. Someone needs to give them a push, and apparently, he’s the only one willing to do it.

He stretches his neck. Well then, it can’t be any harder than taking an elbow to the jaw—fucking Suter.

This is gonna be a piece of cake.

*

(It’s not. It’s really, really not).

*

Steve knows this guy, Charlie. He’s a single dad too, raising two little boys. He’d be perfect for Sid if it wasn’t for Geno, but Steve thinks he can be useful all the same.

The thing is, Sid and Geno clearly want to be with each other, and even better, they’re good together. They would absolutely be that couple so obnoxiously in love that no one can stand to be around them. But they need a push, because they’re both stubborn, and both too afraid that starting something will ruin the mutual respect and friendship they’ve spent years cultivating.

He needs help, Steve does, and Charlie is just the guy he needs.

“You want me to what?”

The problem is, Charlie isn’t entirely on board. Yet.

“I need you to flirt with Sidney Crosby. In front of Geno Malkin,” Steve says, and makes sure to keep eye contact. His stare can be pretty intimidating. Beau still has trouble holding his gaze when they talk. Steve thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

Charlie does look wary, and Steve just barely keeps from preening. He’s still got it.

“Why do you want me to flirt with Sidney Crosby? In front of Evgeni Malkin? The Evgeni Malkin. Have you seen him? He’s huge, and I don’t have a death wish.”

Pussy, Steve thinks uncharitably, and steadfastly refuses to think about the time Addsy and Geno got into a scuffle in practice and Addsy emerged all bloodied and with the need to wear a jaw guard for the next few games. He definitely doesn’t think about how that was only a couple of weeks ago. Even Steve knows not to get in Geno’s way when he’s in a certain mood.

“Geno is a teddybear,” Steve says, and it’s only a half-truth. Geno is a teddybear for anyone whose surname is Crosby. “Look, I’m playing- I’m playing matchmaker, okay?” he grits out, his glare daring Charlie to comment. “You flirting with Sid is exactly the push Geno needs to get his head out of his ass. Fuck knows it’s not gonna be Sid who makes the first move.”

Charlie stares at him, unimpressed. “So you’re using me, basically?”

“Yes,” Steve says bluntly. Wasn’t it obvious? 

“Downie,” Charlie says, pinching the bridge of his nose in consternation. “You can’t possibly think I’ll agree to this. Sidney Crosby is gorgeous, I can’t deny that, and I’m sure he’s a great guy. But he’s not my type, and I don’t want to meet him under false pretenses. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m into him when I’m not.”

“It’s not like Sid will fall for you. Fuck’s sake! He’s already in love. Have you not been listening?” Steve’s glare deepens. Maybe Charlie isn’t right for this job after all. He’s clearly an idiot.

“Then why do this, Downie? Wouldn’t it be easier to, oh, I don’t know, make them confess to each other?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Steve exclaims, his voice raising in exasperation. He clenches his fist, taking several deep breaths. He’s got a temper. He knows that. But he’s been working on it. He’s been better. Sid and the guys make it better.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That was uncalled for.” He raises a hand, scratching sheepishly at his nose. “Just- if I give you tickets to a game, and you bring your kids, and you happen to meet Sid, would it really be too much trouble flirting with him? It doesn’t have to be much. Only a little will do. And you’re right, Sid is a great guy. You’ll really like him.”

Charlie sighs. “If I do happen to be at a game, wasn’t the whole point to flirt in front of Malkin? How am I meant to ‘happen’ to meet both of them together?” He lifts his hands, his fingers moving to put air quotes around happen.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Where one is, the other is quick to follow,” he says, and forgets for a moment that this only makes sense to a member of the Pens. It’s one of the first thing Steve learnt after coming to Pittsburgh. “It’s a home game, so Sid will have his kids there. As long as the kids are there, Geno will be too.” Not that he wouldn’t be either way. Steve doesn’t say that aloud, though.

Charlie lets out another sigh. “This is such a bad idea,” he says, and Steve grins, wide and shark like. He knows he’s won.

Steve struts around, unbearably smug for a few days. That is, until their next home game when he introduces Sid and Charlie and everything goes to hell.

“Downie,” Geno growls at him, and Steve turns to look at him, absolutely flabbergasted. Because, what the hell? This was not how things were supposed to go. Charlie was meant to flirt, yes, but not with intent, but he is, he so clearly is. Only five minutes into meeting Sid, and Charlie is smitten. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever used the word smitten before in his life, but Charlie clearly is. There is no other word for it.

“Where you find this guy?” Geno asks. “Why is he here?”

Steve stutters. “I- I- he- Charlie is a friend,” he says weakly, and physically has to restrain himself from taking a step back at the glare Geno turns on him. He looks back to Sid and Charlie.

“I know!” Sid is saying. “My girls are the same. Noah is the calm one, he rarely cries. I’d hardly know anything was wrong with him at all if it wasn’t for the girls. Hannah gets so upset on his behalf, and Rosalie will cry for anything. She’s a bit of a diva,” he admits, laughing and stroking a loving hand across Rosalie’s head, as if apologising for gossipping about her.

Charlie nods in understanding. “This one was like that as well. Would scream bloody murder every time anyone put him down.” He pushes gently at his oldest, grinning down at the betrayed look the child sends him.

“Did not!” the little boy says, and Steve wants to bash his own head in, because he can see Sidney visibly melt at the display.

“Oh, well.” Sidney laughs. “She’s not quite that bad. Except if Geno is nearby. She’s sort of claimed him as hers, I think.” He turns his head to his side, but startles when he sees that Geno is no longer next to him. He looks around in confusion until his eyes land on Steve and Geno, his face breaking into a wide smile as his gaze lock with Geno’s.

Steve looks between the two, and—

The sudden burst of anxiety disappears. He doesn’t know why he was so worried. His plan is working perfectly, he decides. Geno is obviously upset, jealous as all hell even if he won’t admit it. And Sid, while having found a kindred spirit in Charlie, is still looking at Geno with hearts in his eyes and so fucking obvious Steve honestly doesn’t understand how they haven’t been fucking for ages.

Fucking idiots, he thinks. Just get it on already.

Because Sidney’s body is turned towards them, Rosalie zeroes in on Geno, and she stretches her little arms out, making grabby hands at him.

It doesn’t even take Geno two seconds before he’s back over there, gathering Rosalie from Sid’s arms and into his own, cuddling her close. He whispers to her in Russian, pressing kisses into her fine, black hair, and Sidney looks about ready to wish into existence another set of triplets right there and then.

Charlie looks between them, and then sighs. He turns to share a knowing look with Steve, nodding once in acknowledgment. He’s seen the same everyone else already knows.

He clears his throat to get their attention. “So,” he says. “I know we only just met, and this is probably forward of me, but would you be open to a playdate sometime? Seems Oliver here is sweet on your Hannah, and I’d hate for them not to see each other again.” Oliver is two, Steve knows, and is Charlie’s youngest. He’d taken one look at little Hannah Crosby and decided she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his short life.

Steve would have laughed if not for how murderous Geno had looked. He watches as Geno shifts Rosalie in his arms before bending down, expertly extracting Hannah from the stroller, looking protective and disapproving as he holds the girls close.

Sidney sighs and rolls his eyes. He looks down at the stroller, reaching out to fuss with the blanket around his sleeping son. Noah is probably the laziest baby Steve has ever seen. Can babies be lazy? He doesn’t know. In any case, Noah seems to always be sleeping.

Sid worries about it endlessly. He’d taken him to the doctors four times already. There was nothing wrong with him that the doctors could tell, but Sidney is a first-time parent, and worries endlessly. Geno is usually the only one who has a chance of keeping his crazy in check.

“Oh,” Sid says, sending Charlie a quick glance before looking back at Noah, which means he doesn’t know what to say and is stalling for time.

Steve feels something inside him flutter gleefully that he knows Sid well enough to recognise these signs. It means things are going well. It means he has a home here. And it means Steve is going to make Geno a part of the Crosby family like he so very obviously and desperately wants, even if it is the last thing he does.

“Babies too young right now,” Geno says, because he knows Sid better than anyone. “Maybe when is older. Is better to play.”

Charlie lifts his brows, obviously surprised that Geno would speak for Sidney in this way. Steve gets it. He’d been surprised in the beginning too. Geno is often incredibly forward and presumptuous when it comes to Sid; it had taken Steve a whole week before he finally figured out that they weren’t together.

“I suppose you’re right,” Charlie says. He looks at his sons, smiling at them ruefully. “Guess we’ll have to wait until they’re a little older, guys.”

They leave shortly after, with autographs for the boys (and one for Charlie too, who’d blushed a bright red when Geno signed his ticket. Apparently, Geno was exactly his type. Steve may have miscalculated a little there).

“Downie,” Sid says when they’re gone. “What was that all about?” The look he sends Steve is entirely too knowing, and Steve holds back a groan.

Sid likes to play the oblivious fool, because wilful ignorance works in his favour more often than not, but he is far from it, and Steve had nearly forgotten. His mistake. He’s only lucky that Geno is too busy with the triplets to pay attention.

“Nothing,” Steve says stubbornly. “Charlie is a friend. He’s a single dad; I thought the two of you might hit it off.”

“And then what?”

Steve says nothing. He knows better than to reveal his plan.

Casting a quick glance at Geno to make sure he’s busy with the babies, Sidney steps closer and slings an arm around Steve’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Hey,” he says, pressing their heads together. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but this is between Geno and I. We need to work this out for ourselves, okay? No more interfering.”

Steve chokes on nothing. He knew? “You knew?” he croaks out. Damn it. He’s been all subtle and everything.

Sid chuckles at him. “You’ve never once brought a friend for me to meet, much less a single dad with two little kids,” he points out.

Okay, so maybe Steve hasn’t been as subtle as he thought.

It’s only later, when he’s crashed out on his bed, body tired from a good, hard-won game, but mind still wide awake that he realises what Sid’s words really mean. He’d told Steve not to interfere between him and Geno, which means that Sid is aware that there is something between them to interfere with, which means that hell if Steve is going to stay out of it. Sid clearly has no idea how to go about all this.

It’s only right that Steve helps.

He’s no fool, though. Steve knows the limitations of his own capabilities, and he is no matchmaker. If anything, he’s learnt that from this whole mess. He still needs help, and he knows just who to call.

“Hello? Downie? Why are you calling so late? I’m tired.”

Steve ignores the whining over the line. “Sunshine,” he says, “I need your help.”

Beau groans.


	115. Sid/Geno - Sleeping beauty AU, magical realism

“What are we looking at?” Pascal asks, walking up to where a bunch of the guys have crowded around the couch in the break room. “Is that Sid?” he asks when he’s elbowed his way in between Tanger and Flower. “Hey, kid, come on. Get up. We have a game tonight.”

  
Flower shakes his head mournfully. “He’s sleeping.”

  
“Yes, I can see that. Now wake him up.”

  
“No, Duper. He’s sleeping,” Flower says meaningfully, and it takes him a second, but then Pascal is cursing loudly in French, because last season Beau had insulted an old lady and consequently spent three months covered in fur and wearing nothing but loose shorts because it was all that would fit him, and the year before that, a guy had kept following Tanger around telling him to, “Let down your hair!” while Tanger’s hair grew and grew. And the year before that–  
Pascal sighs. “Did he eat an apple or?”

  
“Pricked his finger on a spindle,” Phil offers, and then says, “I still don’t understand where the spinning wheel came from?” 

  
“Don’t worry!” Flower says, slapping him on the back. “You won’t either. These things just happen around here.”

  
“Often?”

  
“Oh, all the time,” Flower says cheerfully, grinning wide at Phil’s wary look.  
  


Pascal ignores them both. “So how do we wake him?” he asks, even though he has a fair idea already. He has three daughters. He knows how this story goes.  
  


“I think,” Tanger says grandly, “with true love’s kiss.”  
  


Which, yeah. And of course, because their luck is, as always, abhorrent, Sid isn’t even dating anyone at the moment.

  
Pascal pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again. “So. Who’s kissing him first?” he asks, and wonders, in an abstract kind of way, where the hell Geno is…


	116. Sid/Geno - Magical realism, cursed penguins, singing, pre-relationship

When Sidney jerks awake to the sound of Haggy and Horny crooning “ _You’ve got a friend in me_ ,” to each other, with the baby Pens enthusiastically _Ohhh_ -ing and _Ahhh_ -ing at the appropriate moments, the first thing Sidney says is, “God damm _it_. Who the fuck pissed off a witch?”

Geno has just enough time to tell him, “Wasn’t witch, was—” before he too is singing:

“ _Would you let me see beneath your bea_ —” Geno cuts off abruptly, his eyes going wide.

Sidney blinks at him. “A siren,” he guesses, incredulous. “Someone pissed off a siren?”

Geno nods his head. He’s got his hands clamped over his mouth firmly.

“Who?” Sidney asks, but Geno just shakes his head again, refusing to remove his hands from over his mouth. Sidney sighs. He doesn’t really need Geno to tell him anyway. There’s only a select few of his teammates who are dumb enough to piss off a magical being and not realise (or care) that it would inevitably end up in curses and spells.

“Okay,” Sidney says. He gives Geno a friendly nudge before getting up from his seat. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out what’s going on. I promise.” Finding out what’s going on is usually synomous with _ending_ whatever is going on, because most spells are easily countered. Other times, the spell needs to run its course.

Sidney fervently hopes this isn’t one of those times.

Geno smiles and sings, “ _When I see your face_ —” before promptly shutting up, his hands flying over his mouth again.

Sidney holds back another sigh. All right then.

He walks past Haggy and Horny—they sing, “ _This is your heart, it’s alive,_ ” as Sidney moves around them, making his way further down the plane until he reaches Tanger and Flower. Flower gives him a shit-eating grin. He sings, “ _Is it too late now to say sorry. Yeah I know that I let you down. Is it too late to say I’m sorry now._ ”

Sidney pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the hell happened?” he asks Tanger, because Tanger is a null like Sidney and can’t be affected by spells or curses. He’ll be able to speak. Thankfully. “We were fine when we boarded the plane. Did I miss something earlier?” Sidney says.

Tanger rolls his eyes. “Jake n’bake over there is your culprit,” he says, pointing at where Jake is standing with the rest of the baby Pens at the front of the plane, chanting, “ _Go, get your freak on. Go, get your freak on_.” Tanger snorts. “Jake got into it with a Flyers fan when we went out for pizza. Girl was a siren. It’s a delayed curse.”

Sidney groans. “How many times must I tell them? _Never_ go out in Philly. Or Washington. Or Columbus, or—” He breaks off when Tanger starts laughing and Flower sings, “ _Beat me, hate me. You can never break me…All I wanna say is that, they don’t really care about us_.”

“Yes,” Sidney says and glares at Flower. “Exactly.” People love to hate the Penguins. It’s not a stat anyone keeps track of or anything, but Sidney is pretty sure that there is no team in the league that has been cursed as many times as the Penguins.

Every two months, it feels as if there is something new. Sidney shudders. At least they’re over the truth spell Dumo accidentally cast a few weeks back.

If someone had asked to touch his ass one more time—“I just want to know if it’s as big as it looks.”—Sidney may actually have committed murder. Or helped Geno do it, because he’d been uncharacteristically pissed off about the whole thing.

Usually Geno find the curses amusing. He’d been particularly fond of the fairytale one.

(Sidney has since learnt never to leave Geno unsupervised with a sword and armour.)

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Sidney asks Tanger. “You guys were with him, weren’t you?”

Tanger shakes his head. “I stepped outside to call Catherine, and when I got back in, this one was egging them on.” Tanger looks at Flower fondly. “You’re an idiot, mon ami,” he tells him.

“Why would you make it worse, Flower? Jesus. You know these things happen to us.”

Flower grins up at Sidney. He shrugs, opens his mouth, and sings, “ _Cuz I’m a boss. Uh uh, watch the beat go_.”

Sidney stares at him. “We’re going to have to wait this out, don’t we?”

“Probably,” Tanger says cheerfully.

When Sidney makes his way back to his seat next to Geno at the front of the plane, Coach grabs his arm as he walks by and raps, “ _Now, I ain’t much of a poet, but I know somebody once told me to seize the moment and don’t squander it. ‘Cause you never know when it all could be over tomorrow._ ”

“Uh,” Sidney says, and beats a hasty retreat. He has no idea what the hell that was about.

When he finally reaches his seat, Geno is slanted against the window, asleep. Sidney smiles softly at the sight.

Usually, Sidney sits next to Flower, but Geno is the only one who can stand to listen to Sidney sleep talk about hockey, and Flower always disappears from his seat whenever Sidney falls asleep. It’s not unusual for Sidney to wake up to Geno sitting next to him, his breathing a steady hum as he flicks through whichever book he’s brought with him.

“Geno,” Sidney says gently, shaking his shoulder to wake him. “Come on. You need a pillow or something. If you sleep like that, your neck is going to be killing you later.”

Geno’s eyes flutter open slowly. He turns his head, and when he sees Sidney, he sighs groggily and croons, “ _Sweet creature, sweet creature. Wherever I go, you bring me home_.” He tilts against Sidney and falls asleep again.

Sidney laughs softly, startled. He strokes a hand through the soft tufts of Geno’s hair. “Okay,” he says and feels a warmth inside, down to the very tips of his toes.

Maybe he knows what Coach was rapping about after all.

(It takes two days for people to stop singing. All things told, it wasn’t actually that bad.)

* * *

**List of songs:**

Randy Newman - You’ve Got a Friend In Me  
Labyrinth ft. Emelie Sandé - See Beneath Your Beautiful  
Bruno Mars - Just the Way You Are  
NoNoNo - Pumpin Blood  
Justin Bieber - Sorry  
Missy Elliot - Get Your Freak On  
Michael Jackson - They Don’t Care About Us  
Kelis ft Too $hort - Bossy  
Eminem ft. Rihanna - The Monster  
Harry Styles - Sweet Creature


	117. Sid/Geno + OMC - Hockey gods, religious worship, outside POV (Pious)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chaosneutral replied to your photoset: Pens can’t catch a break. Hockey Gods stop whacking them with your stick!

I’m half-convinced that someone within the organisation did something that just really pissed off the hockey gods, like, screw just messing with the actual offender. Oh no, we’re gonna make sure EVERYONE pays for this atrocious transgression.

And he’s gotta know, right? He’s gotta know that he didn’t just offend the gods, oh no, he was fucking sacrilegious, and now it’s been too long and too many people hurt–Paul (let’s call this fellow Paul) just doesn’t know what to do anymore. He doesn’t know how to fix the perpetual ‘bad luck’ that’s settled into every nook and cranny of Consol. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s all his fault.

It’s been too many years.

He’s walking past the players’ dressing room, on his way home when he hears voices inside, and he stops, surprised.

There shouldn’t be anyone in there. The game has been over for a couple of hours already, and most people have left for home–Paul is one of the last stragglers, a quick offering to the gods holding him back for a few extra minutes.

He’s about to walk on when he recognises the unmistakable voice of Evgeni Malkin.

Malkin hadn’t even played today. Why was he still here?

“Can’t do this, Sid,” he’s saying. “Can’t dedicate all spare time to hockey gods. Isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t just pray to the hockey gods,” Crosby responds. He sounds horrified by the very thought. “I pay my dues to all gods in the pantheon. To Andromeda and Gaius and the rest.”

Andromeda, goddess of good will. Gauis, god of healing.

Paul closes his eyes. Crosby is deeply religious, has been from a young age. Everyone and their mothers know that. But it doesn’t matter how pious he is, how beloved by the gods. Not in here. Not in Consol where the hockey pantheon rule.

It’s Paul’s fault (what should he do? What should he _do_?)

“Sid.” Malkin sighs, and Paul wants to move on he does. He has no business hearing this, but he can’t seem to make himself move for some reason.

“Sid, loss today is not your fault. Loss _yesterday_ is not your fault. Can’t blame yourself.”

He hears Crosby scoff. “I could have prayed a minute longer. Fig doesn’t like it when his prayers are rushed. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Crosby prays to the Canadian pantheon, and it takes Paul a moment to remember that Fig is the god of speed and mobility.

Malkin sighs again. “Hate to see you like this.”

Paul isn’t able to help himself then. He sneaks a glance through the open door in time to see Malkin draw Crosby in for an embrace, closing his arms tight around him.

And that, that is not what anyone could call platonic. Not with the way they look at each other–not with Crosby lifting his hands to cup Malkin’s face, smiling, warm and fond when he says, “You worry too much.”

“Only because I’m love you,” Malkin says, and Paul only barely holds back his gasp when Crosby pulls him in for a deep kiss.

He makes a hasty retreat, making his way to the exit before he’s discovered. Paul can do nothing about the Penguins’ bad luck, as much as he is to blame. But as he leaves, he offers a quick prayer to Amora, begging her to bless Crosby and Malkin. It’s the least thing he can do.

He may be hated by the hockey gods, but the goddess of love, at least, should be willing to listen

“Please,” he prays under his breath. “Let their love be true. Let it be ever lasting.”

He steps outside the building, and as he walks to his car, he fancies he can hear the wind whispering to him.

_As you wish, so mote it be._


	118. Sid/Geno - Forever AU, immortal!Geno, teenagers (Into Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forever AU. Geno doesn’t remember the first time he dies.

Zhenya doesn’t remember the first time he dies.

It’s an accident of Denis’ making, and his brother will spend the next few years so wrought with guilt it will take until Zhenya’s teens before Denis can touch him with any other intent than the anxious carefulness he’s been handling Zhenya with since his first drowning. (There will be seven more that he knows of. Zhenya loathes drowning; he doesn’t remember the first time, but the slow, painful burning of his lungs during the following six is enough to make him pray his next deaths won’t be by water clogging up his airways.)

Zhenya is four when it happens. They’re outside the building of their one-bedroom apartment, their mother having ushered them outside to keep them preoccupied while she makes their dinner.

It’s raining, large puddles of water forming in the dips and dives of the cracked concrete.

Natalia has cautioned them to stick to the front of the building, where she can keep an eye on them from the kitchen window, but Denis wants to splash around in the water puddles, and Zhenya is his ever faithful shadow; it’s easy to forget the scolding Mama will give them for disobeying her when Denis is dragging him around the corner, telling him how much fun it is to jump into the puddles and watch the water splash around them.

It is fun. Denis and Zhenya squeal with delight as the water drenches them.

But it’s cold too, and Zhenya is getting hungry. He wants to go inside and tells Denis so.

His brother shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “Mama won’t be done with dinner yet.”

“But I’m cold, Denis. I want to go inside.”

Zhenya keeps nagging, tugging at Denis’ arm to get him moving.

Finally, Denis gets frustrated with him. “Fine!” he yells, pushing at Zhenya with both hands to dislodge his grip and then stalk past him around the corner.

He doesn’t look back to see where Zhenya is lying face-down in the puddle of water they’ve just been playing in; the sound of the rain pounding on the pavement drummed out the sound of Zhenya’s head slamming against the concrete when Denis pushed him away.

Denis is halfway up the stairs before he realises Zhenya isn’t trudging behind him like usual. He feels a terrible chill run down his spine as he rushes back down, sobbing when he rounds the corner and sees his little brother lying motionless on the ground.

He runs over, sinking to his knees, uncaring of the cold, muddy water as he tugs at Zhenya’s shoulder, pulling his head out of the puddle.

It’s too late. Zhenya’s lips are blue, the pasty grey of his face marred by the watery streak of red streaming down from his temple.

He is dead. Denis has killed his little brother, and he howls with guilt and despair.

What will he tell his mother and father? How is Denis meant to live a life where his brother is dead? Zhenya can be annoying sometimes, but he’s his brother and Denis loves him.

He sits there in the puddle of water and cries and cries, clutching at the body of his dead brother.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Natalia finds them. She rounds the corner with a curse on her tongue, intending to give her children a thorough lashing for failing to follow her instructions. She freezes when she sees them, her eyes wide as she gasps soundlessly.

She must make a sound, because Denis looks up and meets her eyes. “Mama,” he cries out. “I killed him. I killed him!”

That gets her moving. She rushes over to them, taking in the blood on her baby’s face. It’s such a stark contrast to the grey of his face, and she knows that Zhenya is dead.

“No, no, no, no,” she babbles as she collapses next to them, reaching out for her son with shaking hands. She is beside herself, doesn’t know what to do, and it’s not until they’ve been gone long enough for Vladimir to come investigate that she manages to pry her frozen fingers away from her youngest.

“You have to let him go,” he’s saying, pulling her and Denis back from Zhenya’s cold, wet body. “You’re holding him back. As long as you’re touching him he can’t return.”

The words make no sense, and Natalia doesn’t understand why her husband is so calm. Their child is dead! Doesn’t he care?

“Of course I care, darling,” he tells her, closing his hands over hers. “But Zhenya is special; remember my great uncle, remember what he is. Zhenya is like him, Uncle said he was like him. Have faith, Natalia.”

She shakes her head wildly, but neither her nor Denis is touching Zhenya anymore, and despite the impossibility of her husband’s words, of his uncle’s words, Zhenya is suddenly gone.

She blinks her eyes wildly. “Wha-what happened?” she stutters, and beside her Denis is startled into silence.

There was no fading, no gradual disappearance. Zhenya had been there one second and the next he was gone.

“It was the magic working. It’s good, Natalia,” Vladimir assures her. “It means Zhenya is alive.” He climbs to his feet, offering his hands to his child and wife before helping them up. He doesn’t let go, but tightens his grip on them as he starts walking.

“Come. We must go to the rink. It’s the only place with ice right now. Zhenya will be there.”

They find Zhenya lying naked in the middle of the ice. He is lying still, but breathing steadily, and when Natalia shakes him awake, he doesn’t remember what happened.

Zhenya is so young it takes his grandmother dying and going through his own death twice more before he understands that he is special in a way that no one else is.

He wants to know why he is different, and why every time he dies, he wakes up near ice, but the only one with any answers is his father’s great uncle, and no one has seen him for years.

They finally meet when Zhenya is thirteen. He doesn’t get any answers.

*

Zhenya is cautioned to keep his immortality secret.

“They will come for you,” his mother says, over and over. “They’ll take you away, experiment on you. No one can know, Zhenya. You must keep it a secret.”

He tries to, he really does, but there are things outside of his control, and inevitably, people find out.

Outside of his family, a classmate is the first one to discover what Zhenya is.

His name is Evgeni too, and he is an angry, jealous boy. He corners Zhenya in an alley near the school one day, and screams at him, hurtful, hateful things. He is angry, he says, that Zhenya shares his name but is a better hockey player than him, has better grades than him, that girls like him better.

It’s Zhenya’s fault, he says, because they share a name, but Evgeni can never measure up. Even at home, he shouts at Zhenya, his father berates him, hits him, asks him why he can’t be like the other Evgeni, the good one, the one everyone knows will make a career of hockey, because he is that good.

“He told me he wished I had never been born,” Evgeni screams, and blames Zhenya for that too.

“I’m sorry,” Zhenya whispers, looking away from the seething boy in front of him. He doesn’t know what else to say. Evgeni has told him his father beats him and that Zhenya is to blame, and while he knows he’s not at fault, he still feels bad for Evgeni. He wants to help him.

“Don’t you feel sorry for me!” Evgeni screams, reaching out and pushing at Zhenya’s chest.

Zhenya is taller, but he goes stumbling backwards, the breath leaving him as he collides with the wall of the building behind him.

“It’s your fault! It’s all your fault.”

Zhenya can barely make out the words. His head slammed back against the wall, and the impact has him disoriented. His knees buckle under him; he falls to the ground with another push from Evgeni.

Evgeni is screaming, his hands tangling into Zhenya’s hair in a tight, painful grip, and before he knows it, Zhenya’s head is being slammed against the concrete ground. Once, twice, three times, then a fourth.

He was dead after the second.

Panting, Evgeni releases his grip on Zhenya and trips over his own feet as he scrambles backwards. He stares at the body in front of him, eyes growing wide with horror as he watches the red pool under Zhenya’s head grow bigger and bigger.

The rage has left him now. All that is left is panic and despair.

He doesn’t know what to do with the body, and before he can think about it, he takes off, leaving the alley and his dead classmate behind.

It’s the first time Zhenya’s death is not an accident. He is fourteen.

When he wakes up at the rink, Denis is there, waiting with a bag of new clothes and a grim look on his face.

“You didn’t come home after school. I figured something might have happened.”

Zhenya grits his teeth, takes the bag from Denis and puts on the clothes, limbs stiff and furious.

Denis raises his brows at Zhenya’s angry silence. “What happened?” he asks.

Zhenya shakes his head. He wants to tell his brother the truth, wants to say his death wasn’t an accident this time, that he was murdered in a fit of homicidal rage.

“Cracked my head open on the ground,” he says instead, a half truth, and brushes past Denis, stalking out of the rink. He’s scared of what will happen if he tells Denis what Evgeni did. He’s scared he’ll make his brother a murderer.

Denis is so protective of him, almost beat their cousin senseless once after he accidentally poisoned Zhenya with rat poison (Viktor still doesn’t know that Zhenya died that day).

It’s obvious that Denis doesn’t believe him, but Zhenya sticks to his story, even with Denis and Mama pressing him for details. Denis keeps a close eye on him for the rest of the day.

The next morning, Evgeni doesn’t show up for school. Their teacher frowns and pauses with the roll call. “Has anyone heard from Evgeni?” he asks, and Zhenya very carefully keeps his head down, eyes fixed on his desk as most of his classmates shake their heads in a negative.

Their teacher’s frown deepens, but finally he shrugs and continues down the list.

Evgeni doesn’t show up for another week, and when he does, he has an inexplicable panic attack.

Much fuss is made as he is carted away to the school nurse; only Zhenya notices how Evgeni stares at him in horror, eyes wide and face grey as his lips moves soundlessly.

_But you are dead, you’re dead. I saw you, you are dead._

_I killed you._

*

He goes through a stretch of no self-preservation.

He’s careless, has no regard for his own health and safety; he is secure in the knowledge that the worst thing that can happen to him is death, and death for him, is not final.

It is not the same deterrent as it would be to someone else, to someone who doesn’t die only to wake up. His mother despairs of him, as does his brother. They ask him why he is so careless, why he has so little regard for his own life. Doesn’t he understand the pain they go through every time he dies?

“They are afraid, Zhenya,” his father explains to him one day, after Zhenya has had a spectacular row with his mother and brother. “They fear that one day you will die and won’t wake up.“

Zhenya scoffs at him. "I am immortal,” he tells Vladimir. “The whole point about being an immortal is that I can’t die.” He storms out of the house before his father can respond, unable to bear the weight of his disapproving stare any longer.

He fuels his frustration and anger at them into his hockey, developing his natural skill as he moves up the roster of his team. He’s getting better everyday it seems, is undeniably good, and is greatly rewarded for his effort. Metallurg is pleased with his progress, and as he turns older, they throw money and sweet double edged words at him.

Zhenya accepts the money gleefully and hardly thinks about anything else; he is so proud to be able to provide for his family, to help them out of the poverty they have known for as long as Zhenya can remember. It’s easy to forget about promises given and promises made in the midst of all his success.

Time passes, and the more focused he is on hockey, the longer it goes in between his deaths. He is still reckless, plays with a dangerous edge to his game he wouldn’t have dared had he not been immortal–and all the while his mother keeps worrying.

It’s only when Zhenya meets Jelena that things start to change.

He’s sought out by a beautiful woman after a game one day, and Zhenya, already in a good mood from his game-winning goal, has always had a weakness for a beautiful face. She explains her name is Anya and asks if he wouldn’t mind meeting her younger sister.

“She’s a huge fan of yours,” Anya says.

Zhenya does not need much convincing before he follows her into the hallway outside his team’s locker room. He’s surprised for a moment when he sees a little girl in a wheel chair. She already has a big smile on her face, but when her eyes land on Zhenya all of her just lights up, as if he is the stars the moon and the sun, all compressed into one being.

Her name is Jelena and she’s seven years old. She is bound to her chair by an inoperable tumour, and she is the most gorgeous thing Zhenya has ever seen. He is utterly charmed from the get go, bending to her will when she reaches out with shaky arms, asking for a hug with her sweet, childish voice.

He spends a good hour with her, signing whatever she asks for and pulling increasingly ridiculous faces to make her burst into bouts of giggles.

She dies four days later. Unlike Zhenya, she won’t come back to life, and he watches, stone-faced, as they put her body into the ground.

“Do you understand now?” his father asks him, clamping a firm hand on Zhenya’s shoulder, leaving the grieving family behind as he guides his son out of the cemetery.

“Yes,” Zhenya croaks out. He’s a mess of snot and tears, so overcome with grief for this child he’s known all of four days. He doesn’t understand why she had to die. It makes no sense to him that this beautiful little girl, so spirited and full of hope despite her hopeless situation, is now gone. She’ll never come back, not like Zhenya would. Not like he will.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he says.

“No,” his father agrees. “But this is how it is. Please, Zhenya. Please understand. You must be more careful.”

Zhenya thinks maybe he does understand now, finally. For the first time in his life, he learns to be cautious. He finally understands that just because he is immortal, he doesn’t need to die; he shouldn’t have to die.

With his newfound maturity, Zhenya learns not only caution, but the value of subtlety and silent observation. He watches and observes, and, finally, he thinks about promises given and promises made.

Metallurg has a claim on him they are hard-pressed to relinquish. For a while, Zhenya doesn’t think it will be a problem, but then the NHL comes calling, _Pittsburgh_ comes calling, and Metallurg will not let him go.

Zhenya remembers promises given and promises made, and agrees to stay.

The Pittsburgh Penguins draft Sidney Crosby, and Zhenya spends a year watching and wanting.

When the season ends, Metallurg reminds him of promises given and promises made, but Zhenya already knows what he must do.

He gets on a plane with his teammates and travels with them to Helsinki.

They return without him.

*

Seryozha and Ksenia are out of the house when Zhenya slips at the top of the stairs and goes tumbling down the steps.

He breaks a rib during the descent and punctures a lung, sustaining massive internal bleeding until his heart can’t take it anymore and stops beating.

It’s his first day in Pittsburgh, hasn’t even been more than an hour since he arrived from the airport with his agent and interpreter, and Zhenya dies before he even gets a chance to meet Mario Lemieux or any of his teammates (Seryozha doesn’t count. Zhenya already knows him from Magnitogorsk).

He wakes up on a fresh sheet of ice to frantic hands shaking his shoulders and wide pretty eyes, staring at Zhenya fearfully.

Zhenya blinks. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of such a look in those beautiful green eyes–if Denis had been here he would have been merciless in his teasing, mocking Zhenya’s inability to focus when there was a pretty face in front of him. _You’re so easily distracted, Zhenya,_ is what he would say. _This is how I’m going to end up an uncle. Some pretty thing is gonna shake their hips at you and off you go_.

(He’s not entirely wrong, except Zhenya is going to marry that pretty thing first, years from now.)

"Malkin! Oh, my god! Are you okay? You weren’t breathing. And why are you naked?”

Zhenya only understands his own name pretty much, but the face above him is familiar, even if this is the first time he sees it in person in almost two years.

“Sidney Crosby,” he says, and is still out of it enough to lift his hand, trailing his fingers over the planes of Sidney’s face. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

Sidney frowns regretfully.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Do you speak English?”

“English?” Zhenya repeats. He is sometimes groggy after waking up from dying. Confused and disoriented. It takes him a while before his head clears, but when it does he finally realises who he’s with and what has happened.

Oh hell. This is bad. Seryozha will be pissed; they were supposed to be at the Lemieuxs already. And then there’s Sidney. Zhenya isn’t sure how to explain his presence or nudity in a way that won’t make him seem like a total freak.

It’s Sidney who gives him an out.

“Are you drunk,” he asks, eyeing Zhenya judgmentally. “Or hungover, maybe?”

Zhenya doesn’t understand the actual words, but Sidney seems to sense his confusion and makes a fist, tipping his hand against his mouth like he would a bottle. He’s making gulping sounds for good measure, and oh. Yes. Zhenya gets the gist of what he’s asking. He can work with this.

He lifts his hands to his head, groaning pitifully as he rubs against his temples in what must be the universal sign of a hangover headache, because Sidney sighs and finally seems sympathetic to Zhenya’s plight.

“Come on,” he says, and helps pull Zhenya to his feet. He flushes red when he gets a full look on Zhenya’s body, turning to look away, too quick to notice the smirk that breaks out on Zhenya’s face.

He watches as Sidney shrugs out of the Penguins jacket he’s wearing, Zhenya’s eyes dipping low to the swell of his ass. A pretty thing, indeed, he thinks.

“Spasibo,” he says when Sidney holds out the jacket behind his back, and Sidney must understand he’s thanking him, because he nods, says, “You’re welcome,” and Zhenya actually knows those words.

He fastens the jacket around his waist, like the toga skirt he’d worn for a costume party once. It doesn’t do much for his modesty; Sidney is broader, but he’s half a head shorter. At least it covers his junk and his ass.

Sidney sneaks a glance over his shoulder. He seems to lose his blush as he takes in how absurd Zhenya must look. He bursts into giggles, and it is the most ridiculous honking sound Zhenya has ever heard in his life.

He is utterly charmed.

“You sound like a dying duck,” he tells him, chuckling at the look of confusion that settles on Sidney’s face. Zhenya is going to have to teach him Russian, or maybe he’ll actually apply himself towards learning English now–whichever comes first. Zhenya just knows he wants to be able to talk to Sidney.

“Come on,” Sidney says, reaching over to tug on Zhenya’s elbow. “We’ll find you some clothes and then I’ll take you to Mario’s, okay?” He keeps chattering as he walks off the ice, and Zhenya doesn’t understand a word of what he saying, but he follows, helpless to do anything but.

(It’s going to sum up about eighty percent of their relationship.)


	119. Sid/Geno - Magical realism, mage!Geno, non-magic!Sid, 5 head canons

1\. People are always surprised to realise that Sidney has no magic. His skill on the ice so far eclipses that of his peers that people tend to forget he’s a dud. He’s a rarity in a world filled with magic. Not everyone is a full-fledged witch or wizard, but most people have at least a spark, the barest hint of power, usually not useful for anything more than simple blessings and prayers–but Sidney…Sidney has nothing.

2\. He still mutters blessings under his breath as he tapes his stick and laces up his skates. He wishes with all of his being to play a good game, for his friends and teammates to stay safe. It never seems to work.

3\. Geno is a mage. People are always surprised by that too. He doesn’t seem like one; is too goofy and easy-going for most people to reconcile his silly persona with the immense power of a mage. Maybe it’s because he’s Russian, maybe because there is still bad blood lingering from the Magi wars, but people don’t like to think about how powerful he really is. They don’t like to remember that Geno can level buildings with his thoughts, the strength of his magic bending reality to his will. It’s easier not to remember.

4\. Sid and Geno didn’t get along for the longest time. Surprisingly, that’s neither of their faults. It’s Mario’s.

5\. This is what happened. A lot of people, powerful, dangerous people, don’t like that Sidney is a dud. There’s talk about having him removed from the team and the League, and Mario panics as he imagines what ‘removed’ really means. Thinking fast, Mario figures the only thing that will keep Sidney safe is to add a third party to the equation, someone powerful, like a mage, like Geno.

Geno is still playing for Metallurg in Russia, though, and negotiations to get him across the Atlantic has been fruitless so far. Running out of time and options, Mario devises a scheme with Geno’s agent, a plan that will see Geno disappear and reappear in the States.

It’s a delicate operation, dangerously time-consuming, and in order to avoid suspicion, Mario starts leaking quotes to the media. Suddenly, all anybody can talk about is the developing feud between Malkin and Crosby, raging about each other’s magical status.

Sidney doesn’t understand what’s going on or where the media is getting their information. He tries to defuse the situation, to deny that he has a problem with Malkin being a mage, but everything he says is twisted into something ugly and hateful, and by the time Geno actually makes it to Pittsburgh, there’s resentment there–a dislike and an uneasy trust maintained only by their shared loyalty to their team.

\+ 1. Sid and Geno are cordial at best, but far from friends. Their relationship is professional, and they like it like that. This is when things change: there is a scrum during a game and one of the younger players loses control of his magic. Sidney isn’t even thinking before he steps in the way of the wayward curse hurtling towards Geno’s turned back.

It slams into him, and for a second, it is as if time slows down. Sidney doesn’t go flying through the air from the force of the impact, instead, he crumbles to the ice where he’s standing, falling like deadweight.

There’s a second of shocked, terrified silence, and then there is a mad scramble on the ice as everyone tries to get to him. Geno reaches him first. He stares, wide-eyed, at where Sidney is lying, slack and loose-limbed on the ice.

He’s dead, Geno thinks frantically, until miraculously, he can see Sidney’s chest move.

Geno almost cries with relief as he holds his hands out above Sid’s body, infusing as much healing magic into his thoughts as he wills him to heal, to expel the curse from his body.

It’s seems like forever before Sidney sucks in a huge, startling breath, his eyes shooting open in awareness; it’s the most beautiful thing Geno has ever seen.


	120. Sid/Geno - Demon of Consol, magical realism (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid wants to make a sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fira211 asked:  
> I wasn't paying attention and read that as Sid fucking the demon of Consol and back tracked real fast to see if it was a fic prompt. XD

OMG, ok, ok, ok.

  


“ _You’re_ the demon of Consol?” 

Sidney stares incredulously at the demon (vampire?) scowling at him.

“Why you sound so surprised?” the demon – or vampire. Seriously, Sid can’t tell – demands. “Of course I am Consol demon. I’m best,” he says with a flourish, the cape around his shoulders swirling dramatically. In the middle of the rink. Inside. Where there is no wind.

Sidney blinks.

“Why you summon me?” the demon – not a vampire then, despite his appearance – goes on. He looks down his nose at Sidney, sniffing delicately.

“I–I want to make a sacrifice,” Sidney blurts out.

The demon grins wickedly at that, shedding his haughty demeanour as he straightens up, adding a couple of inches to his height. (He’s been slouching artfully.) “Oh?” he asks, interested. “And what you want to sacrifice, Sidney Crosby?”

“You know who I am?” Somehow, Sid had not been expecting that.

“Of course, I’m know.” The demon snorts. “This is Consol. Is my ice, my domain. I’m know all which is mine.” 

“I’m not yours,” Sidney denies, because he thinks maybe that’s what the demon meant, and he’s not. He’s _not_. 

“Oh?” the demon says again, mocking this time. He glides across the ice. Literally. “You belong in Consol, hm?” he asks, coming to a halt just in front of Sid. Too close. He’s much too close.

Sidney wants to take a step back, but he’s rooted in place, can’t make himself move.

“You call this rink home,” the demon continues, and Sid can’t deny that, not any of it. “So that mean you mine.”

“I–”

“So tell me, Sidney Crosby. Tell me what you sacrifice, and for what.”

Sidney swallows. He looks into the demon’s eyes. They’re dark, almost black, but Sid can’t see any evil there. Nothing sinister, no sign of the darkness that makes up a demon.

It’s confusing.

“Myself,” Sidney whispers, watching his breath come out in cold puffs of air. The rink is cold enough on its own, but there’s a deeper than normal chill with an ice demon standing before him. “Myself. I sacrifice myself for the health of my teammates.”

The demon throws his head back and laughs. He’s very handsome, Sid thinks absently, even with the whole vampire-getup going on.

“Very selfless, Sidney Crosby. Know what it means to sacrifice? What you have to do?”

And the thing is, Sid has heard stories. Word of mouth, from a friend of a friend of a friend. He’s never personally known anyone who’s sacrificed themselves to a demon, but there’s always a common thread that runs through all the stories.

“It means that I give something up. A piece of myself. My soul, my life, my–my body.”

The demon smiles at him, all teeth. He leans in close, bending his head and putting his mouth next to Sidney’s ear. “Wrong,” he whispers. “It means to receive.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“You think you can handle, Sidney Crosby?” the demon asks, fingers already fiddling with the strings of Sid’s sweats, hands moving to push at the slackened band around his waist. “Think you can take what I’m give?”

Sidney blinks, dazed. He doesn’t fight the demon off, doesn’t want to. “Yes,” he moans out when the demon closes his teeth around his earlobe and _tugs_. “Yes, I can take it.”

The demon pulls back, and when he smiles at Sidney this time, it’s soft. Pleased.

“Good,” he says. “Very good.”


	121. Sid/Geno - Demon of Consol, magical realism (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hi hazel! Is it possible for you to write another part to the Sid and demon!Geno?

Sidney learns that the demon of Consol is of Russian origin. “Proper ice demon,” he tells Sid importantly, which is an insult against Canada, where most ice demons hail from.

Sid is worryingly insulted on their behalf.

“So,” he says as he lies on the smooth surface of the ice, nude but somehow perfectly temperate. He’s not cold at all. Not like he was before. “What do I call you?”

“Lucifer,” the demon says, and then cracks up at Sid’s look of horror, clutching at his stomach and roaring with laughter.

Sidney scowls at him and elbows the demon in his side. Hard. “Bastard,” he hisses at him.

The demon grunts, his laugh tapering off to a chuckle. He props himself up on his elbow, grinning down at Sid. “Evgeni,” he says, “but you can call Geno. Is easy for you.”

Sidney stares up at him. “Geno. You’re different from what I thought you’d be like.”

“Yes,” Geno agrees before leaning down to steal a kiss, and then another, until they’re making out and going for round number two, only the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Sidney’s moans filling the rink.

*

The demon follows him home. Sidney doesn’t object.

*

Geno takes to introducing himself as Sidney’s trophy husband, “Because I’m so pretty, see?” and generally tags along when Sidney is out and about.

His friends and family wonder where the hell he met Geno and how they’re living together already, but after the first few times meeting him, they all take to Geno pretty quickly.

Sidney is maybe a little worried about that. “You don’t–you don’t use magic on them, right?”

Most people would probably be insulted at such an accusation, but Geno is a demon, a mischievous one, and only grins. “Can’t change people’s minds, Sid,” he says. “Magic can do many things, but not control minds.”

Sid thinks he knew that already, but he’s not sure what it says about his friends that they are all so fond of Geno, a demon (he’s not sure what it says about himself, that he’s in love with him).

*

“So what exactly does Geno do?” Tanger asks him at practice once, and Sidney only shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at where Geno is chatting with Gonch in fast-paced Russian.

“Stays at home, relaxes, watches soap operas on TV.” The previous week, there had been a few days where Sid’s house was constantly filled with the sound of high-pitched screaming from Geno’s newest telenovela obsession–until Sid commented on how hot that one actor was and Geno promptly went back to his Russian soaps. 

Tanger stares at him, incredulous. “He really is your trophy husband, isn’t he?”

And, well.

Geno is a great and powerful being, but he’s also bound to Consol; all demons are tethered somewhere.

Sidney is an extension of Consol, which lets Geno roam outside the rink, but he cannot leave Pittsburgh. Sidney maybe feels a little guilty about that–Sidney maybe lets Geno get away with a lot of mischief because of that.

*

Sometimes Geno babysits. 

Sidney isn’t entirely sure how that started but it’s not unusual for a teammate to call them up and ask if Geno could watch the kids for a little while. 

They all love him. Lola Dupuis is particularly enamoured. (Duper had laughed and laughed at Tanger’s look of outrage when he found out he’d lost his position as Lola’s boyfriend.)

Sid mostly thinks it’s cute, and he wouldn’t mind so much if Lola also hadn’t picked up Geno’s love of capes.

“Seriously?” he asks when he comes home from practice one day to find them posing in front of a mirror in the foyer, twisting this way and that to better admire their respective capes.

Lola beams at him. “Look at my cape, Uncle Sid! Isn’t it cool?” She skips over to him so she can point out the pattern on her cape.

“Is that–is that _me_?” Sidney stares at what is, indeed, an assortment of different pictures of himself, spread out across the little cape.

“You should see Uncle Geno’s!” she says, grinning up at him with one tooth missing and Duper’s twinkling eyes. 

He shifts his gaze over to Geno, apprehensive, as Geno turns his back to him with a flourish. There’s only a single image printed on Geno’s cape: a large closeup of Sid from a few years ago, his face encased in the protective cage he’d been forced to wear after breaking his jaw.

“Oh, my God,” Sidney groans out.

He hates them all so much. 


	122. Sid/Geno - Demon of Consol, magical realism (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Will we see more of demon!Geno and jerk!Geno and kitten!Sid?

Yes, you will! Let me tell you about how demon!Geno fell in love with Sidney long before they even met in person. Geno has been in Pittsburgh for nearly two centuries. He was brought there long ago by a Russian magician — a woman who sold him her soul for the right to borrow his power. The contract is only for a decade; standard demon protocol. But the woman is smart. The smartest human Geno has ever met — before and since.

He never found out how she did it, but she binds him to Pittsburgh, chains his life source to the very roots of the city, reaching deep underground. Geno is chained in place, unable to escape his bonds for the last two hundred years.

It’s been a long time since Geno has felt like not trying.

Sidney makes him not want to escape so bad.

He remembers seeing Sidney for the first time. Geno is old. He sought refuge in Melon Arena years ago, angry and sullen, comforted by the familiarity of ice and cold.

He ignores the humans mostly. Cloaks himself in his misery and spites them, his discontent seeping into the ice around him until the whole of the Arena becomes imbued with malice and angry resentment. Humans did this to him, Geno thinks, and watches them suffer stoically.

But humans are a resilient race. If nothing else, Geno admires that.

More than any player who has skated across the surface of his ice, Sidney embodies that.

Geno’s been watching, indifferent, but for the first time in years he sits up and takes notice.

He is very young, his Sidney. Full of life and passion and a spirit that refuses to break. Geno watches him, a child first, no more than eighteen, get up again and again every time he is knocked down. There is quiet power in him, Geno thinks, and wants.

He grows possessive of him. Thinks of Sidney as his and snarls when he feels the tendrils of a visiting demon’s power licking at Sidney’s heels. Geno protects him as much as he’s able, but he’s not as powerful as he used to be; half his strength is tethered to the ground and the other half is lost, elsewhere with the female that trapped him in Pittsburgh in the first place.

More often than not, Geno manages to keep him safe, but sometimes he fails. Sometimes he’s not strong enough and Sidney goes down, an ankle injury that keeps him out for weeks, a puck to his jaw from a freak deflection that is anything but natural.

The worst injuries are the ones he doesn’t see coming. The hits to Sidney’s head, egged on by another demon before Geno even gets a chance to _try_ and stop it.

He watches, as he always has. He watches Sidney fall into a spiral of darkness and hurt and misery, and remembers for the first time in a long while that humans are resilient, yes, but they are also so very, very fragile.

He tries harder from them on. Geno forces power to his fingertips that have been dormant for decades, wrings whatever magic he has left dry to protect this creature that has bewitched him so completely.

This creature without magic. This creature who didn’t even try.

Geno is Sidney’s, wholly and fully, as surely as Sidney is his.

They’re a pair. Soul mates if there is such a thing.

Sidney doesn’t know that when he finally calls upon Geno — and Geno has waited for this moment, he has been patient, but now he will claim what is rightfully his.

Sidney feels it, even if he’s not quite sure what _it_ is, even if he can’t put it into words. But he feels it.

“You try so hard, don’t you,” he whispers against Geno’s neck. He’s curled into Geno’s body, fingers idly tracing random patterns on his skin. They should be sleeping, but they’re both wide awake under the cover of darkness and the duvet. Too jittery about the game the next day, perhaps.

“Hm?”

Sidney presses a kiss to the hollow of Geno’s throat. “To protect me, and my teammates. You keep chanting spell after spell. I could feel them, all the way down in Tampa.”

“You felt that?” Geno asks, surprised. He shouldn’t have been able to. Tampa is too far away from Pittsburgh and Geno is still not as strong as he should be. He’d done his best, made sure his Sidney was safe at least, but there was still glitches in his spell work and malicious magic at play; demons, lower rankings especially, are mischievous creatures that love creating havoc. They’re attracted by big crowds and big emotions. Sports arenas are their feeding ground.

Geno doesn’t know how many had been there for Game 4, but enough to get around his protective spells on Sidney’s teammates. Enough to take out Trevor Daley for the season.

Geno likes Trevor. He’s one of a select few on Sidney’s team who doesn’t automatically flinch when he sees him, as if the force of his good nature is enough to overshadow the natural malice in Geno’s aura.

Even when humans don’t know what he is, they can feel it instinctively on their most base level.

Geno is sorry he hadn’t been able to protect him, but it’s a sacrifice he is willing to concede as long as it kept his Sidney safe.

Sidney hums. “It’s not really something I can put into words, I don’t think, but I felt like you were there. Like you were a force around me that kept the other demons out.”

Geno goes stiff. He forces himself to unclench and searches for Sidney’s hand, treading their fingers together. “You could sense them? The other demons? You feel their power?”

“I think so.” Sidney makes a face, and only Geno’s superior eyes lets him see his frown through the darkness. “It was like they were pushing at me, but you kept them off.” He presses more firmly into Geno’s side. He’s worried. Geno can tell.

“I could feel their malice.”

That cannot be good. Sidney’s spirit is very strong, stronger than most, but he is not particularly sensitive to the supernatural. He’s never been able to sense magic before, and he only feels Geno’s because of their unusually strong connection.

Sidney is worried. And so is Geno.


	123. Sid/Geno - Magical realism, people change colour according to emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where people change colour according to their emotions.

the AU where people turn the colour of their feelings. Mostly their eyes will flash pink if they see someone they like, or an off-putting green if it’s someone they don’t like. If their emotions are really strong, like really happy or really sad, their whole body turns a sunny yellow or deep blue. Sometimes, their feelings aren’t quite enough for their bodies to change colour, but it still affects objects around them.

When Sid was a kid, the ice under his skates was green a lot. It would be, with so many kids, older than him, envying his skill and the ease of which he navigated the ice.

There were a lot of red sticks too, and red flashing eyes.

Sid himself used to be blue a lot. Literally. And often a mix of colours that reflected his confusion, his failure to understand why the other kids were so mean to him, why his talent made them so angry and vicious. It became something else they bothered him about though, so he learnt to play through it.

He learns to deal with it on the ice and off, learns to grit his teeth and control his emotions, to force back the blue that would show just how sad and lonely he really is. By the time he’s drafted by the Penguins, Sidney has earned his hockey-bot reputation twice over – he so rarely demonstrates his emotions that some people are wary of him and unfairly judgemental. It’s not natural to feel so little that his emotions wouldn’t show outwardly. That’s what people say anyway.

And then Geno makes his way to the States and to Pittsburgh, and suddenly, Sidney’s eyes start flashing pink, things he touches turn purple to indicate how calm and content he is, and his skin seems just a little bit brighter, as if he’s always happy when Geno is around.

(It’s a good thing then, that Geno always turns a deep, hot pink whenever he sees Sid, his eyes flashing such a strong yellow it’s impossible to mistake his bright joy for anything else.)


	124. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 1), outside POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney Crosby disappeared as a child. Troy Crosby refuses to believe he’s dead.

“Oh, man. Here we go.”

Cam looks up at her partner’s weary sigh, glancing around confused until her eyes land on the man walking towards their desks with long, purposeful strides. He’s carrying an old-looking brief case, and his face is set into a determined mask. He looks geared for a fight.

“Who’s that?” she asks Pritchett, voice low.

Pritchett sighs again. He sounds a mixture of sad and exasperated. “Troy Crosby,” he says. “He’s the father of Sidney Crosby. He drops by a couple of times a year, asking for updates.”

Sidney Crosby, missing for almost seven years now, presumed dead.

Cam looks down, grimacing. She’s not from around here, but she remembers the case; the disappearance of a hockey phenom had been international news. Sidney Crosby had been in line to be the next Mario Lemieux, the next Gretzky, and then he was just gone.

The Crosbys are prominent members of the community, and Sidney had been a big part of that, doing charity work and volunteering before he went missing.

That kind of loss leaves a mark on a town.

“Ron. It’s good to see you again.”

Pritchett takes the hand offered to him. “Troy, how ya been? This is my partner Cam Holden, she’s Delano’s replacement. He finally retired, the old bastard.”

“Mr. Crosby,” Cam says, shaking his hand.

Cam is Cole Harbour’s newest homicide detective. Originally from Toronto, she’s only been on the job for a couple of months, and already the slow, lazy pace is a welcome change from the harsh, bustling life of a big city. She’s used to a new murder case every week; the last suspicious death in Cole Harbour had been two weeks ago, and it had turned out to be a freak accident.

Truth be told, she doesn’t miss the thrill of chasing down a murderer, but she does miss the mystery of an unsolved case, putting together all the pieces of a puzzle until it all makes sense. Officially, the Sidney Crosby disappearance is a cold case, only looked at when there’s no other work to do, and there’s been no updates for years. Cam hasn’t looked at the case details herself, but this might be what she’s been missing.

“Please, call me Troy. I’m not big on formality.”

“Then it’s just Cam. What can we do for you, Troy?”

Troy reaches into his brief case and hands her a thick manila folder. He glances at Pritchett before looking back at her. “I was hoping you’d take another look into my son’s disappearance, go through the evidence one more time.”

“Troy—” Pritchett begins, but Cam cuts him off.

“Evidence?” she asks, intrigued. She’s been under the impression that there had been no leads in the case.

“They’re all dead-ends, Troy, you know this. There have been no new leads for years. I’m sorry.”

Troy shakes his head firmly. “When’s the last time you even looked at this? There’s stuff in here you guys could never make sense of.”

“What stuff?” Cam interjects again, but goes ignored.

“What makes you think we’ll make sense of it now? Nothing’s changed, Troy. You’ve been watching too many of those crime shows,” Pritchett says, not unkindly. “You have to stop doing this to yourself, to Trina. It’s time to let it go.”

Cam can see Troy flush in embarrassment at the mention of ‘crime shows’, but he grits his teeth, his hands clenching around nothing. “He’s not dead.”

Pritchett shakes his head. “Troy, it’s been seven years. The chances of Sid being alive are slim to none. He’s not coming back.”

“You can’t know that. There was never any body. I refuse to believe Sid is dead until there’s a body.”

Cam feels for him. She wants to help, but Pritchett isn’t wrong. The likelihood of Sidney still being alive is next to nothing. Every parent of a missing child wants to believe they’re still out there somewhere, but after the first forty-eight hours, the child is dead nine out of ten times.

Still.

There is something about Troy’s conviction, the hope and helplessness in his eyes; what he wants is a miracle, Cam knows, but what he’s asked for is for someone to look over his son’s case file just one more time.

She’s no miracle worker, but at least she can do the latter.

Cam flips through the folder as Troy and Pritchett keep going back and forth. There’s a picture of the lake where Sidney went missing, a still shot from a private security camera with a view of the woods and a white, unmarked van parked next to an electrical pole. There’s a document with the names and numbers from the tip lines, leads that must not have led anywhere. Cam reads through it, pausing at a comment that jumps out at her. She looks back at the still shot of the unmarked van.

 _Huh_.

“I’ll take a look at it.” She slaps the manila folder shut and tosses it down on her desk.

Troy stares at her, mouth open, and Pritchett frowns at her in disapproval.

“You will?”

“Cam—”

“I’m not promising anything, Troy,” she says, interrupting her partner again. She probably shouldn’t be making a habit of that; she likes Pritchett. He’s a good guy and a good detective, if a little old fashioned. He’s kind, though, and understanding. He’s been patiently helping Cam get acclimated to the department and Cole Harbour, and he trusts her.

She’s going to need that now.

“And my other cases are going to have priority, but I will look at it.” She claps Pritchett on the shoulders. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thinks. “Pritchett will help.”

Pritchett stammers, but Troy is already drawing him in for a bear-hug, thanking them both, saying how much he appreciates them doing this. “I mean it, Ron. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Cam smirks when Pritchett glares at her before clapping Troy on the back. “Just don’t get your hopes up,” Pritchett tells him, but he’s looking at Cam, lifting his brows pointedly.

Cam nods. She’s not some rookie on her first case, but her mind is already spinning with different possibilities, and a reality check is always good.

She looks at her desk, at the picture of the boy that is fastened to one corner of the manila folder. He looks impossibly young.

_What happened to you, Sidney Crosby?_


	125. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 2), outside POV

Sidney is in the water when he sees it.

There’s a sharp light, flickering from in between the trees surrounding the lake, just barely distinguishable from the rays of light glinting off the leaves.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed, considering.

_Flicker - pause - flicker - pause - flicker - flicker - long pause._

Sidney grins when he recognises the pattern. It’s not exactly morse code, not really, but it’s a code all the same. A secret language. Someone signalling him to come meet them.

Dylan, probably, Sidney thinks. And Ariel. The twins are still grounded from the firework incident at the VA centre last week, but Sidney wouldn’t have put it past them to have snuck out.

_Flicker - pause - flicker._

Sidney rolls his eyes when they urge him to hurry up. He treads water, humming to himself, and sneaks a look at his dad. Dad is in the shallows with Taylor, patiently trying to coax her into the water; she’s shaking her head stubbornly, her little arms crossed in front of her chest.

Sidney is too far out to hear what they’re saying, but he can see his sister’s mouth move, easily imagines her shrill “No, Daddy! I don’t want to!”

He shakes his head; he’d told Dad he wasn’t getting her in the water without her floaters on.

Taylor is only four, but she’s very bossy and isn’t about to do anything she doesn’t want to.

Mom says it’s because Sidney caves to her every whim, that he spoils her, but Sid thinks it’s more because she’s a Crosby. She’s a lot like Sidney that way.

As a rule, Crosbys tend to go at their own pace, and Taylor has decided she isn’t ready to learn swimming quite yet.

Dad seems to reach the same conclusion. Sidney can see his shoulders move. He thinks Dad is laughing, that gentle laugh he has when they’ve done something to really amuse him. Laughing with them never at them.

It’s one of Sidney’s favourite sounds.

He watches as Dad gives up, walking out of the water so he can lift Taylor into his arms. Dad turns to look out at Sidney, signalling to where they parked the car, probably going to get Taylor’s floaters.

Sidney nods and waves. He waits until Dad and Taylor are just small dots in his vision, and then lost up the small hill to where Sidney can’t see them anymore. He bites his lip for a second, feeling guilty already, but there’s a sharp light glinting off his face.

_Flicker - pause - flicker._

Sidney swims towards the tree line, slow strokes through the water. Dad is going to be so pissed he took off without letting him know, but Dylan and Ariel can be trouble on their own. Sidney figures it’s best if he’s there to moderate the inevitable chaos they’ll create.

The twins’ keeper. That’s what Mrs. Jensen calls him whenever he comes over to round them up for a game of street hockey.

_“You’ll keep ‘em out of trouble, won’t you, Sidney?”_

He gingerly picks his way through the woods. He steps on a branch, wincing as the wood juts painfully against the sole of his foot. He wishes he had his flip flops on. “Dylan?” he calls out. “Ariel? Where are you?” 

Sidney looks around for signs of the twins or the flickering light, but there’s only trees around him.

He frowns. Sidney grew up around these woods. A bunch of the neighbourhood kids built a secret hideaway a few years ago where they’d spend hours playing before dark. Sidney _knows_ these trees, he knows all the hiking trails, but he feels lost suddenly without knowing why.

There’s an uneasiness churning at the pit of his stomach. He should never have gotten out of the water.

Dad is going to be so angry.

He hears a twig break, and startles, head snapping around to look over his shoulder.

“Who’s there?” he manages, before his eyes widen fearfully. Sidney takes a step back. “Who—”

Everything goes black.


	126. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 3), outside POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hello! I know your busy with the wiki (which is amazing) but is there going to be more in the AU where sid goes missing when he was young?

"Tell me again why we’re here.” Pritchett scratches at his straggly beard, looking out at the water with keen eyes, searching, searching. Cam wonders how many times he’s stood here before, at this exact spot, searching the lake for any sign of Sidney Crosby. For signs of his body.

More times than even Pritchett knows, she’s sure.

He had been one of the lead investigators back then. Had known the boy, besides.

It always hurts to be forced to move on from an unsolved case. It’s proof of their failure as cops, that they’ve been unable to bring justice to criminal and victim alike.

It always hurts, but…

To Pritchett, this is personal, even seven years later. He’d known the boy, knows his family. Cam understands his hesitancy. Understands he’d rather let sleeping dogs lie. She also understands he is a cop, that he wants to be able to give Troy Crosby the answers he so desperately seeks.

All cops are the same in the end, and Pritchett is no different. They hate leaving a case unsolved.

Which is why she knows that Pritchett is still curious enough to play along, but she also knows that curiosity can quickly turn to frustration. And then annoyance.

If Cam wants to pursue the Crosby disappearance, she’s gonna need to keep her partner interested and engaged. Enough to not shut her down, in any case.

“You searched the lake, right?” she asks instead. “Never found a body?”

Pritchett sends her a flat look. “We had divers scour it for days.” The _of course_ is left unsaid, but Cam hears it just fine.

Pritchett sighs when Cam merely lifts her brows at him. He shakes his head. “No, there was never any body, as you well know. The lake is big though, and it tapers off into the Scotia River. It’s possible his body was picked up by the current and he floated down the river into the ocean. If so, he’s really gone. Lost somewhere in the Atlantic.”

Cam hums. She looks from Pritchett to the lake. It was certainly possible, and a likely explanation.

If the boy had drowned, that is.

“No,” Cam says as her gaze shifts to the surrounding tree line. “I don’t think he was in the water at all.”

Pritchett sputters.

Cam glances at him, amused. “Come now,” she says. “Surely the thought must have occurred to you before. Sidney Crosby was a strong swimmer, by all accounts. He grew up near this lake, right? I read from his report that he came here every weekend that summer with his family.” Cam looks back at the water. It’s still now, its colour a clouded blue. She wonders what it had looked like the day Sidney disappeared.

“So?” Pritchett asks impatiently.

“So,” Cam says, dragging the word out mockingly. “He knew this lake, this place. What are the chances, really, that he drowned? An athletic kid like Sidney Crosby? Besides, it was summer. The temperature was in the mid-twenties that day.” Her mind is whirling with different scenarios, but a possible drowning is not one of them. It doesn’t _feel_ right. “No rain or wind to factor in. No waves,” she points out. “Nothing that would have disturbed him.”

Cam knows herself. She’s a creature of instinct, as most detectives are. She’s always trusted her gut before and she’s not about to stop now. She knows she’s on to something. Can feel she’s right.

Pritchett opens his mouth, but Cam cuts him off before he can utter a counter argument. “He didn’t drown,” she insists. She’s so sure of it. She just has to find the proof. “No, he got out of the water for whatever reason. We just need to figure out why…and where he went.”

“Cam,” Pritchett starts, shaking his head. He takes in a deep breath, then releases it, his shoulders heaving with the motion. “Fine. Yes, okay. We did consider it, searched the woods and everything, several times even, but there was never anything to suggest Sidney was ever there. If he really got out of the water, he would have been on foot; there’s only so far he could have gone before Troy realised he was gone and made the call. It was a suspected drowning; we responded quick.”

“But I bet you didn’t start searching the woods until much later. And you’re not accounting for foul play. Someone could have taken him.”

Pritchett scratches at his beard again, looking thoughtful. “Assuming there was foul play, they still would have had to get him out of the woods, and we responded quickly enough that we would have seen them had they walked. There’s only the one road out here,” he explains at Cam’s curious look. “And we’d have found them if they had thought to hide it out in the woods. It goes nowhere; just the lake here and the surrounding residential area. No way someone wouldn’t have seen them.”

“Unless they had a car,” Cam points out triumphantly.

Pritchett shakes his head. “There were never any reports of anyone seeing a car,” he counters.

Cam grins. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“What—”

“Just humour me for a second,” she says, cutting him off once more. She hides a smile when he rolls his eyes at her. She really should stop making a habit of interrupting him. Bad for their partnership and all that. “Let’s pretend, for a moment, that Sidney _did_ get out of the water, forced or otherwise. And let’s pretend, with or without foul play, that there _was_ a car and Sidney was in it. Could the car have gotten out of here before the police showed up? Without Troy noticing it? Without you seeing it when you came along?”

Pritchett stares at her for a long few seconds. “Maybe,” he allows. “If the car was already parked on the road? Yeah, maybe. Why? You know something I don’t? I already told you; there was no car.”

Cam shakes her head. “Maybe there was. Come on,” she says, tugging at Pritchett’s arm before starting the trek up the hill towards the parking lot. “I’ll explain on the way.”


	127. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 4), outside POV

“The white van,” Cam says, with no little amount of grandeur, once they’re in the car.

Pritchett glances at her, eyes moving quickly to the manila folder in her hands before he shifts his gaze to the dashboard, twisting the car keys and starting the engine. He doesn’t make a move to pull out of the lot. “The white van,” he repeats. “The one from the security tape. That still is dated a week before Sidney disappeared, you know.” There’s no derision in his words, just explaining the facts as he knows them, trusting that Cam is going somewhere with this.

She appreciates that. Appreciates him.

“True,” she says. “But I’ll bet you a thousand bucks it was there that day.”

Pritchett stays quiet for a moment. “A thousand bucks, eh?” He looks back at her, eyes measuring. Cam meets his gaze dead on. “You have a theory then?” he asks. “Well, come on. Out with it.”

Cam grins. “Okay, just bear with me. This still,” she says, waving the picture of the van in his face, “was taken from a private security camera—like you said—a week before the disappearance. Do you know how it ended up as evidence?”

Pritchett shakes his head. “How?”

“It’s not!” Cam says, almost gleeful with it.

“Okay, now you have lost me. What are you talking about?”

“The case number was mislabeled. I already checked it out; this picture originally had nothing to do with the Crosby case. It was accidentally submitted as evidence because of one of the leads from the tip line. The caller was the plaintiff in another, unrelated case. He was calling about his own complaint, but called the tip line by mistake…”

“And because it was the tip line, they had to take his statement,” Pritchett finishes. “Son of a bitch,” he says, his disbelief clear. “All this time, that’s how the picture ended up with Sidney’s case files? They matched it to the plaintiff’s name, but mixed up the cases. I thought it was just a dead end, not a false lead.“

“Well, it’s not actually a false lead, not exactly,” Cam says, grinning when Pritchett looks at her, confused. “Okay, so get this; this is where it gets interesting.”

“Because it wasn’t already,” Pritchett says dryly.

Cam waves the picture again. “Do you want to hear this or not? Good,” she says when Pritchett nods impatiently. “This picture is dated August fifth. That’s eight days before Sidney went missing from the lake. The tip line caller, a Roger van Holm, guess what his complaint was about.”

“The van, would be my guess.”

Cam nods. “The still is from _his_ private security cam. Every week, for five weeks straight, Roger van Holm called in to the station to complain about an unmarked, white van parked down the road from his house. He thought he was being surveilled or something, I don’t know, I don’t have all the details yet.” Cam flicks through the files in the manila folder, searching for the correct document. She makes a little noise of triumph when she finds what she is looking for. “Here we go…Okay, so he calls in every week without fail, right? And it’s alwayson a Saturday. _Always_. So he makes another call on August twelfth, and that’s normal by then, that’s a Saturday, nothing strange about it. But then he calls in the very next day.” Cam lifts her brows, sceptical. “Five weeks straight, this man calls in every Saturday, and then suddenly on a Sunday too? Tell me that is just a coincidence. I dare you.”

Pritchett stares at her. “That was the day Sidney disappeared. Sunday afternoon on August thirteenth.” He curses violently. “There really was a car.”

“That’s what I think,” Cam says, gentling her voice. Pritchett has gone deathly pale, his mouth pressed into a thin, stern line. She looks away from him, giving him a few seconds to himself.

“How the hell did I miss this?” He sounds a mixture of appalled and disgusted. Angry with himself, maybe.

Cam knows what that feels like.

She shakes her head and places her hand on his arm. “Hey, you were in the thick of it. There was no real reason to think Sidney ever left the water, right? Much less the woods. The only reason I even caught this is because Troy Crosby got his hands on the tip line records. _All_ of it. The log from Roger van Holm’s tip line call is dated a few days after the disappearance, and doesn’t even mention anything that has to do with Sidney. No wonder you didn’t notice before. There must have been a massive backlog back then, you can’t blame yourself for focusing on other leads at that time. It’s what I would have done.”

“Fuck.” Pritchett runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Cam pretends not to see the way it trembles with barely suppressed anger. “So what does the log actually say? What’s your theory here?”

“Log doesn’t say much. I think they were mostly humouring him, to be honest. It’s pretty much the same as the other records; van Holm called in on the Saturday the week _after_ Sidney went missing, complaining about a white van.”

“The week after?” Pritchett says sharply. “It came back?”

Cam nods. “Yeah. Listen to this; according to the log, van Holm said he’d tried to call in on August thirteen, the Sunday of the week before, but never got through to the station—my guess is that you were already responding to Troy Crosby’s 911 call, so van Holm eventually gave up.”

“Hence no record of the call.”

“Afraid not. No discrepancy for you to notice.”

“Shit. Fuck, okay. So you think what? How’s the van involved?”

Cam straightens in her seat. She squares her shoulders, says, “I think it was premeditated.”

Pritchett blinks at her, once.

“No, just listen, okay. I know you always thought it was an accident or a cover-up, definitely a crime of passion, if a crime at all. But I’m not so sure.” Cam shows him the picture of the white van again. “I think Sidney was a target,” she says. “I think they were planning this for weeks, maybe even months. They were watching him, learning his habits, finding a way to lure him out of the water.”

“You’re saying they knew he’d be at the lake. They were planning on it,” Pritchett says. He sounds unconvinced.

Cam shrugs. “Sidney went to the lake every weekend, right? With his family? Wouldn’t be hard to figure out they had a routine.”

Pritchett hums thoughtfully. “Every Saturday,” he confirms. “Troy would bring the kids every Saturday. It was their father-kids day.”

“Except he didn’t that week.”

“Taylor wasn’t feeling well,” Pritchett recalls. “Troy didn’t want her in the water in case she was coming down with something. She perked up though, so they went on the Sunday instead. I met them before hand. They were at the gas station, buying sun lotion.”

Cam smiles uncomfortably, not quite sure how to respond to that. She clears her throat. “So the Crosbys showed up on the Sunday, and so did the white van,” she says. “I think it was there, every Saturday along with the Crosbys, so it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary. So no one would notice it. Think about it, how do you make yourself invisible to other people?”

“Fuck,” Pritchett says again. “Maintenance people and service crews.”

“Maintenance people and service crews,” Cam agrees. “No one ever pays attention to them. I checked the papers from that summer. You were having power outages all across town, weren’t you? There would have been white vans like this from the electrical company pretty much everywhere.”

Pritchett clenches his jaw. “It must have been deliberate. They kept tempering with the electrical grids, maybe even cutting the power lines so no one would question why the van kept showing up.”

“Except Roger van Holm did,” says Cam, and taps a deliberate finger on the picture. “Notice that the van is parked next to a utility pole. It’s the perfect cover.” She sighs. “I bet it threw a wrench in their plans when Sidney didn’t show up that Saturday.”

“But why come back the next day? They couldn’t have known the Crosbys would show up. Why not wait a week?”

“My guess is that they felt they were out of time and gambled on it. They got lucky.”

Pritchett nods slowly at Cam’s words. “Assuming they were cutting the power lines and did show up five weeks in a row…yeah. People would have noticed eventually. The power company definitely would have noticed. And let’s say it was always the plan for the van to show up again the week after Sidney’s disappearance just to cast off suspicion…Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can see them feeling pressed for time. A long op in the middle of the open…I’d have feared discovery too.”

Cam tilts her head in acknowledgement. Pritchett is a former military man, a master strategist. She’ll take his word for it. “So what do you think? Does my theory hold up?”

She’s holding her breath, trying not to get ahead of herself, but she can’t help feeling that she’s really on to something here.

Pritchett stares at the picture of the white van for a long while. Finally, he puts the car in drive. “Let’s go find out,” he says.


	128. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 5), outside POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raindropcastle asked:  
> "Okay but seriously though, Geno is like, a pretty good actor!!! (Though every time I notice when he sighs in exasperation and says "Oh my god," he starts to smile and break his character haha. But to my main question!! Is there gonna be more of the detective fic? I love it so much haha & I'm SO curious!! Or of the Sophia Crosby verse?? :D"
> 
> Geno is so good at everything it’s almost as if he should be on some kinda top 100 list fight me. And also yes! Here’s another snippet of Sid’s pov from the murder mystery au

He wakes up in stages.

There’s pain; his feet ache and his head is killing him. It throbs painfully. The pain and dizziness, the nausea clawing at his throat—it feels like a concussion but he can’t remember what happened.

He doesn’t even know if he’s been concussed before.

He thinks he must have been.

He is slow to open his eyes and immediately regrets it when he’s blinded by the glare of a lamp over his head. The light isn’t even that bright but he lifts a sluggish hand to shield his eyes anyway. There’s something wet on his face. Blood, he sees when he feels with one finger. He stares at the red-soaked digit and struggles to clear his foggy mind.

What happened?

He’s so dizzy, feels like hurling up his dinner but can’t bring himself to move. Has he even had dinner yet? When is the last time he ate?

There’s voices, somewhere outside the room. _His_ room?

There’s the sound of water lapping at something solid; a seagull screams in the distance.

He’s not just dizzy. He’s rocking, back and forth, back and forth.

A boat?

“Fuck, he’s awake.”

He turns his head to one side weakly, staring, fearfully, at the man who just walked into the room. The man advances on him; there’s a murderous look on his face.

He tries to scramble away from the man, but he can’t move his feet, not even to kick at the man when he grabs onto him, strong fingers closing around his throat.

He can’t breathe. There’s black spots forming before his eyes.

There’s a scream. “Don’t hurt him!” someone says, a woman.

He knows no more.

**

The next time he wakes, he lurches into it. He gasps, eyes shooting open in the darkness.

He tries to lift his head, but it still throbs painfully and a wave of nausea hits him so strong he gags around nothing, coughing painfully. He has to take short, rasping breaths just to try and force some oxygen into his lungs.

He claws desperately at his throat, panic coursing through his veins at how swollen it feels, at the tenderness when he presses down too hard. He can’t breathe.

There is movement inside the room, but it’s so dark he doesn’t see, can only hear the sounds of someone’s clothes rustling, of steps getting closer. He tries to shuffle backwards, remembering hands choking him, but his feet find no purchase. There’s nowhere to go anyway, he realises. He’s on a bed.

“Hey, hey, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.” Cold hands cover his own, gently tugging them back from where he’s clutching at his throat. He whimpers, short staccato breaths rasping painfully with every inhale and he can’t _breathe_ , he can’t—

“Breathe through your nose,” a woman’s voice says. “Slow, deep breaths. Just like that. There you go, in and out, in and out.” There’s careful fingers carding through his hair, eyes staring at his own; they’re so blue that he can tell even in the dark. “There you go,” the woman says again, and he feels the panic recede in the face of her calming presence. He can breathe now.

The woman flicks a switch on the wall, and the room blooms with light, a soft, yellow hue he thinks is meant to be gentle on his eyes, but has to blink against anyway. It takes him a few seconds to get used to it.

“What—what happened? Where am I?” It hurts to talk. His throat is sore and his voice is hoarse, but he needs to know. He doesn’t remember anything. Not even his own name—and that scares him more than the throbbing of his head and his sore throat, scares him more than the faint memory of a man advancing on him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. The _where_ and the _what_ won’t ever matter as much as the _who_.

_Who am I? What is my name?_

The woman—slight, short dark hair, _beautiful—_ is silent for a long moment, staring at him thoughtfully as her fingers keep stroking his hair gently. “You don’t remember?” she asks finally, and there is something careful in her voice, something, _something—_

“No. I—The man, from before. He—What happened? Where did he go?”

The fingers in his hair still. “He’s gone,” the woman says, firm. “He won’t ever hurt us again.”

There’s an uneasiness churning at the pit of his stomach. He feels sick. “Hurt us? I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

The man, fingers closing around his throat, a woman’s scream. _This_ woman. And nothing before that. He can’t remember _anything_.

The terror of not knowing takes hold of him. He’s trashing weakly, limbs slow and sluggish. It’s hard to breathe again.

The woman grasps his face between her hands and forces their eyes to meet. “Sidney, calm down. You have to calm down. Come on, breathe through your nose, in and out. There you go. You’re doing so good, Sid. Just like that.”

He stares into the blue of her eyes, breathing slow and deep through his nose like she tells him to even as his mind is whirling almost too fast for him to keep up.

_Sidney? Sid?_

Is that his name?

“I—” He breathes in shakily. “My name is Sidney?” he asks, and the woman freezes. She tries to hide it, but so close, he can see the way her eyes go wide, can feel the slight tremor in the hands holding his face.

“Yes,” she says slowly, carefully. “You don’t remember _anything_? You don’t remember me?”

Sidney starts. He knows her? “No, I—I’m sorry. What _happened_?”

“Oh, Sidney,” she says, and Sidney swallows, wants to shift away from her. Somewhere, in the recess of his mind, he knows that was supposed to sound disappointed, sad, as if she was mourning the loss of his memory, but—

She sounds pleased.

“My name is Lexie. I’m your mother, Sidney.”


	129. Sidney Crosby - Murder mystery AU (Part 6), outside POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> will you continue with the murder mystery fic?

_Let’s go find out_ does not entail returning to the station to do some more research as Cam would have guessed, but an impromptu road trip to the power company that’s located about an hour and a half outside of the town proper. Past Halifax.

“What’s the plan here?” Cam asks while they’re driving. “We just gonna show up and ask to see their records? Without a warrant? Wouldn’t it be easier just to check the logs back at the station? See if they ever made a report about foul play or vandals causing the power outages or something? They must have known the power was being cut deliberately.”

Pritchett shakes his head. “Call Ginny back at the station and have her look into it. In the meantime, we’ll go straight to the source. There’s something off about this.”

“Off how?”

“Off, as in I can’t for the life of me remember having seen or heard anything about vandals messing with the power grids back then. Not a single word on it.”

Cam lifts her brows. “Come on, Pritchett. It was seven years ago, and you were in the middle of your investigation. It’s an easy thing to miss if no one was making a big deal out of it.”

“You said you checked the papers from that summer,” Pritchett counters, sparing Cam a quick reproachful look before focusing back at the road. “They mention anything about foul play?”

Cam sighs but closes her eyes, picturing the newspapers in her mind, mentally reviewing the relevant articles. She straightens in her seat when she realises Pritchett is right. “No, actually. Not a single mention of foul play…in fact, I’m pretty sure there was a statement from the power company; they said it was a faulty line and it was affecting the whole grid but they were working on it.” She stares at Pritchett. “What the hell?”

Pritchett nods. “It’s a cover-up.”

“What the _hell_ ,” Cam repeats. She can’t even begin to imagine why they would cover up something like that. Unless there was something bigger at play.

“Come on,” Pritchett says. He nudges Cam with one hand. “Call Ginny, just to make sure.”

Cam makes the call. She doesn’t know Ginny very well, but she’s been at the station longer than anybody else; Pritchett calls her a dinosaur—a relic of the good ol’ days. She’s amazing at what she does, though, Cam knows. Used to be a Company girl before marrying and settling in her husband’s home town. _Analytics expert_ , they whisper about her in the halls. _Met David through work. He was a spy, you know_.

Cam never got to meet David before he died, but she’s seen pictures. She’ll buy Ginny having worked for the CIA once upon a time, but she’s pretty sure the woman’s late husband was never a spy.

Man, but her colleagues are a bunch of gossips.

“Ginny said she’ll look into it,” Cam says after ending the call. “Said if anyone made a report, she’ll find it.”

“Good. If anyone can, she can. If it’s there.”

Cam looks at him again. “But you don’t think it will be.”

“Like I said, it’s a cover-up. Might be big, might be small. Might be nothing, even, but chances are someone tampered with the power lines that summer, and for whatever reason, the power company kept it hidden. I want to find out why, and if it’s got anything to do with Sidney’s disappearance.”

“If it’s a cover-up, they might not have kept any records. Or even destroyed them if it was really bad.”

Pritchett hums. “Yeah, well,” he says. “They can’t destroy people’s memories. Someone there will remember.”

Cam watches as he pulls into the parking lot, wrinkling her nose as she takes in the huge building in front of them. It’s pretty remote; the nearest gas station was ten miles back. “You been here before, Pritchett?” she asks, following her partner’s steady pace towards the front entrance.

Pritchett glances at her. “Used to work here during the summer when I was a teen,” he says. “Took minutes and brought people coffee.”

“That miserable, eh?” Cam grins at him knowingly.

“So fucking miserable,” he mutters under his breath. “Come on,” he says, holding the door open for her. “Ladies first.”

Cam rolls her eyes, and enters into the building, already scoping out the reception and taking a step towards it when Pritchett grabs a hold of her arm.

“Hey, small town, remember,” he tells her. “This isn’t Cole Harbour and we don’t have jurisdiction here. We barge over there all official-like, and ain’t nobody gonna want to talk to us. Just follow my lead.”

Cam nods wordlessly. Cole Harbour only has about 25,000 inhabitants to its name, but the smaller towns outside of Halifax has even less than that. The people are friendly enough, Cam has learnt after a couple of months, but not particularly trusting of outsiders. And Cam is a Torontonian; she might as well have been _American_ for what it’s worth out here.

She follows Pritchett to the front desk, and hides a grin as he smooth talks his way into meeting with the CEO, all charm on display and none of the gruff she’s become so accustomed to. The young man behind the desk is more than eager to show them the way to the offices.

“You’re a bit of a playboy, aren’t you?” she murmurs, just loud enough for Pritchett to hear.

He glares at her. “Shut up,” he says. “I might be north of fifty, but I am still hot.”

“Sure.” Cam sniggers.

“Here we are,” says the receptionist. He offers them a blinding smile, eyes trained on Pritchett. “Mr. Grant is just inside. He can see you now.”

“Thank you…eh—”

“Tyler Greene,” the receptionist offers helpfully. He takes a step closer to Pritchett. “But you can call me Ty,” he says, winking at Pritchett before sauntering away.

Cam didn’t think anyone actually sauntered anywhere in real life, but Tyler—you can call me Ty—Greene managed it just fine. “Oh my _god_ ,” she says. “If he’s even twenty years old I’ll eat my hat.”

“Shut up,” Pritchett hisses at her again, and Cam is delighted to note his reddened cheek. “You don’t even have a hat,” he says, and then, “I told you I’m still hot.” He goes to knock on the door of the CEO’s office, but before his fist makes contact with the wood, the door opens to reveal a man in the opening. He blinks at them, surprised.

“Ronnie,” he says.

“ _Ronnie_?” Cam asks.

Pritchett sighs and scratches at his beard. “Hi Kevin. This is my partner, Cam Holden. Do you have a minute? We’d like to talk to you real quick.”

Kevin looks between them, brows furrowed. “Sure,” he says after a moment. He holds the door open for them. “Come on in.”

“You know each other? _Ronnie_ ,” Cam whispers as they enter into the office. Not low enough for Kevin not to hear, though, apparently.

He chuckles easily at her confusion. “Ronnie didn’t tell you? He’s my husband.”

Cam stares. “What.”

“Ex-husband, Kevin,” Pritchett says pointedly.

Kevin loses his smile. “Yes, well.”

Cam shifts on her feet. An awkward silence fills the room.

She’s pretty sure she’s missed something big here.


	130. Sid + penguins ensemble - Gen, team as family, sleepovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepover Thursdays starts with Sid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: 3. Cuddling

So if you’ve read [All Across the Field](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F4234419&t=NGIyNWI1YzZhZWRmMjFmZDg5ZDk0MzQ2YzJmZGUwM2ViNzViZDUwMyx6amJ6N0RzNg%3D%3D&b=t%3A7lkmIzcfUC23W_r0QxPq0A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhazel3017.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F137958650753%2Fsleepover-thursdays&m=1), you may or may not remember Flower trolling the rookies with sleepover Thursdays, which should absolutely be a thing in rl, don’t even try and tell me players wouldn’t love that shit. Anyway, it’s Thursday (edit: It’s Friday, I know. I never got around to posting this yesterday, but work with me)!! Silliness to follow!

Sleepover Thursdays starts with Sid.

This is not at all surprising to anyone who actually knows Sid, and less so when they learn that Trina arranged for team sleepovers in his youth. Getting to know Sidney in a setting outside of hockey had helped overcome some of the vitriol and jealousy of his teammates; he even got to be hesitant friends with a few of them, and they all seemed to get to the point where they could accept Sidney’s talent for the advantage it was and be cordial with him and have his back on the ice. It was, all in all, a successful endeavour.

Sid, going from teammates who actively hated his guts to grudgingly respecting and even appreciating him, is left with the conclusion that nothing bonds a team like a good and proper sleepover. 

It works every time.

So when Sidney gets to Shattuck’s, somehow manages to befriend Jack, but still has issues with the rest of his teammates, he thinks, _no problem,_ and invites them all to a secret and not at all school sanctioned sleepover in his and Jack’s dorm.

(Excepting the minor fire, two sprained fingers, and the projectile vomiting, things went well. The guys are even sad to see Sidney leave for the Q after only a year.)

There’s sleepovers in Rimouski too, of course, and even one at the draft (for being a bunch of tough hockey players, they’re all incredibly nervous), but when Sidney is drafted to Pittsburgh, there are none for nearly two years.

The thing is, he’s living with his boss. He’s his teammate too, technically, but mostly his boss who is also Mario Lemiuex; it’d be weird to invite his teammates over for sleepovers. Besides, for the first time in perhaps all of his hockey playing career, no one in the locker room seems to have an issue with him.

In fact, he thinks they kinda like him. They (management) even give him an A and no one objects. Instead of taunts and slurs, he gets pats on the back and friendly smiles and kind words and for the first time in a long time, Sidney thinks there is no need for a sleepover to help his team like him bond.

Then along comes Geno. Geno, with his escape from Russia and not English and busted shoulder and surliness and Sidney thinks, here’s a guy in need of a positive bonding experience.

He gets a lot of crap for it at first, and Sidney does understand that there is a difference between boys and grown men having a sleepover, but he is adamant, and finally, some of them cave.

“If only to get you to shut up,” Brooksie says, but Sidney takes it for the win it is.

Anyway, it works. Geno loosens up considerably, gets to be close friends with Max and Jordy and Flower (which he’ll regret when the three devices new and creative ways to prank him), and it’s _good_.

It’s not like sleepover Thursdays are a weekly thing or even a monthly thing, but sometimes, after bad losses or when they get in new guys or the team just won’t jell for whatever reason, Sidney arranges what has affectionately come to be known as sleepover Thursdays.

Most of the time they’re not actual sleepovers anymore, just nights when they hang out and play video games (and get drunk sometimes) to relax and not worry about hockey for a while. Sometimes it’s a family thing, with guys brining along their spouses and kids and they barbecue and play games and Sidney always smiles so hard his cheeks ache with it, because this is his life and things are so very, very good.

Then there’s the cuddling.

Now this, people are surprised about, because Sid does not come across as very tactile or affectionate, but he is.

He’s always patting someone on the back or squeezing their shoulder in comfort or ruffling the rookies’ hair. And when it’s a family thing, there is always a child on his hip or clinging to his back or knee, giggling while Sidney hauls them around as if they’re not even there, grinning while he pretends he can’t hear their delighted squeals as he mingles with the crowd.

The cuddling, though, starts with Geno.

It’s after their first ever playoffs, when Ottawa knocks them out in five.

They’re crushed, all of them, but Geno takes it especially hard. Sidney thinks part of it is because he risked so much in order to come to the NHL, to win a Cup with Pittsburgh.

During their next sleepover Thursday, the last before everyone disperse for the summer, Sidney looks at where Geno is huddled up on the couch, takes in how miserable he is, and just wraps himself around him.

Geno seems a little startled to suddenly have Sidney in his lap, but as Sid’s fingers card through his hair, he sighs into it and presses his face into the crook of Sidney’s neck.

“Next year,” Sidney tells him, ignoring how Flower is muttering under his breath about preferential treatment and how he too would like a hug, thank you very much.

Which yeah, Sidney hugs like a fucking champ, so that makes sense.

Geno sighs against his neck, but doesn’t say anything, only tightens the grip he has on Sidney’s back.

It’s probably as much of an agreement Sidney will get from him right now, but he still doesn’t like how sad he is, or Flower or Jordy or any of them.

He holds out an arm towards Flower, says, “Come here,” and gets a deeply sceptical look in response. He really must want that hug, though, because Flower moves to join them on the couch anyway, collapsing against Geno’s side as Sidney wraps his arm around his shoulder.

And then Jordy is there too, on Geno’s other side, and Max and Colby until they’re six hockey players, aggressively cuddling on a couch that really is only meant to take three people.

“Man, this is weird,” Jordy says, but he doesn’t look as though he’ll be moving anytime soon, so Sidney takes it in stride.

“Just shut up and cuddle, Jordy,” Colby tells him, and that, right there, is advice they all can follow.


	131. Sid/Geno - Stripper pole, pre-relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney learned to pole dance as a flexibility exercise.

When Geno bought his mansion of a house, the pole was already there.

The guys rib him about it, teasing Geno about the stripper pole in the room down in the basement that _obviously_ had been some kind of a sex den.

“Not stripper pole,” Geno sniffs haughtily at Tanger. “ _Dance_ pole,” he clarifies, as if he has any knowledge at all about anything to do with pole dancing.

Sidney knows Geno has been to his fair share of strip clubs, but he doesn’t think watching scantily clad women gyrate against a pole has made Geno any kind of an expert.

Not like Sidney.

“Why are you blushing?” Flower asks him suspiciously, because Sidney is hardly a virgin and he hasn’t turned red at the mention of sex since he was eighteen and Ryan Whitney had been bragging in the locker room about a set of triplets, the triplets’ mother, and the family pet. Whatever. Flower had been blushing too.

“No, seriously, why are you–?” Flower looks from Sidney to back at the pole where some of the guys are making fools of themselves trying to work it, and Sidney high-tails it out of the basement before Flower can reach any kind of conclusion about why Sidney is so obviously affected by the dance pole.

Geno finds him in the kitchen a few minutes later, raising his brows when he sees Sidney brewing a pot of Geno’s weird Russian tea. Sid doesn’t really drink tea, but he needed something to do with his hands and Geno is only just recently moved in; he hasn’t gotten the coffee machine yet that he’ll keep for his guests mostly.

“Act weird, Sid,” Geno says. He sits down by the table, accepting the cup of tea Sidney hands him with a quiet, “Spasibo.”

Sidney very firmly does not flush at the way Geno lets his fingers linger against Sidney’s. 

Geno leans back in his chair, and Sidney watches Geno watch him, his eyes warm and fond as he looks at Sidney. There’s a smile pulling at his lips, secret and a little teasing. He’s got that knowing look in his face, as if he can see right through Sidney. As if Sidney is completely transparent to him.

Sidney hates that there is some truth in that.

Geno has always been able to read him.

“What?” he says.

Geno hums. He takes a sip of his tea, and then laughs when they hear a crash from downstairs and someone that sounds a lot like Duper cursing up a storm. There’s a lot of French swear words. 

Sidney makes a face. “Coach will be pissed if someone pulls a muscle or breaks something.”

“Should show guys how to do, then. So no one get hurt.”

Sidney freezes, caught.

Geno hums again. He looks satisfied. “So do know stripper pole. How you learn?”

“Dance pole,” Sidney snarks, throwing Geno’s words back at him. There had been no stripping involved whatsoever when Sidney had learned to work a dance pole.

“It was training,” he says weakly, even though it’s the truth. It doesn’t make it less… _less._

 _Flexibility_ , is what he’d told Andy a couple of summers ago. _My muscles are freezing up too fast, especially my legs. It’s hurting my skating._

 _Okay, Sidney_ , Andy replied. _I’ll come up with something. Just trust me_.

And, well. Andy had never let him astray before, so Sidney had taken up pole dancing, protesting all the while even as Andy had shown him video after video of people performing death-defying stunts, as if they were beyond gravity–it was a beautiful art form, but Sidney has never lost his embarrassment over it.

It seems just a little bit shameful. Something the guys would never understand.

At least Sidney has never been more flexible, his skating more fluid than it’s ever been.

“Show me sometime?” Geno asks. “Just you and me. Asshole teammates not need know.”

Sidney startles, his lashes fluttering wildly. Geno is still smiling, but he doesn’t look teasing anymore. Doesn’t look as if he’s chirping Sid. Instead he looks gentle, curious.

Maybe even a little interested.

Sidney swallows. “Okay,” he says. 


	132. Sid/Geno - Rookies AU, light angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hazel. Rookies. I can't stop thinking about the boys as rookies. That article about Sid getting mobbed by fans? Did that lead to a lot of hotel room TV watching with G who barely spoke any English? No clubbing for them when Geno has verbs to learn and homework in roadies?

The thing is, Sid is used to the mobs, to the fame and the attention. It’s magnified in Pittsburgh, sure, the NHL exposure means that only more and more people know his name, but it’s nothing new.

Sid’s been dealing with it ever since that first interview when he was seven, when suddenly everyone at school knew his name, people from five streets over, and even the teens at the local pizza shop would comment, “You’re that kid, yeah? The one scoring all those goals?”

It was novel then. Novel and a little scary, but mostly exciting. It had felt contained when it was just Cole Harbour, when the people, strangers, who started stopping for a quick chat or a random, “Hey, good game,” were friends of a friend of a friend.

Six degrees of separation and all that. It felt safe.

Now it’s more of the same but still different. It doesn’t always feel so safe anymore. Not when going out means worrying about pictures of him going up online—pictures of him holding drinks that aren’t even his, or of women he doesn’t know pressing close. Of men working their arms around him for a picture, just a little too proprietary to be completely innocent.

There is a narrative there, one that isn’t true no matter how much reporterts work their angles, and Sid refuses to play in to it.

It’s easier to hang back when the guys leave for bars and clubs and a night of loose morals and plenty of alcohol. Sometimes, Sidney wishes he could go with them without the hassle he knows it will inevitably end up being, but mostly he’s okay with staying back at the hotel or hang out with the Lemieux kids if they’re back in Pittsburgh. He goes out if Mario does, feels safe and sheltered with him, but otherwise he stays in, and Sidney is perfectly okay with that. He is.

Usually, the guys doesn’t make much of a fuss when he begs off, citing sore limbs or headaches or sleep deprivation or even a combination of all three. They’re disappointed, Sidney knows, because his team actually likes him, but that also means they’ve got his back. They respect him enough not to push and someone always brings back something sweet for him anyway, because Sid’s sweet tooth is more than just an inside joke.

It works this way for a year, and Sidney is fine with it. It’s a little lonely, sometimes, and Sidney has always liked having people around him, has always enjoyed getting lost in the noise and spectacle of people, but he doesn’t want to ask any of the guys to sacrifice their night of fun by staying in with him and no one has really offered to either.

Not until Geno.

“Sid?” he says the first time they’re on a roadie and Max already has one hand clamped around Geno’s left arm and a look on his face that would have been angelic on anyone else if it hadn’t been Max as he promises Gonch that yes, he will absolutely look after Geno and make sure he makes it back to the hotel at a semi-reasonable time.

Sid ignores the by-play and focuses on Geno, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off him. He’s lilted his voice enough to make it a question, but Sidney doesn’t have the Russian to explain or Geno the English to understand why Sidney won’t be going with them.

Instead, Sidney smiles, a strained, crooked thing, and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s okay. You guys go ahead,” he says, and hopes Geno understands even if the words won’t make sense to him.

Max is already dragging Geno through the hotel lobby, Tanger and Jordy and Colby hot on their heels, and all the while, Geno’s eyes stay on Sidney.

Sidney offers him a wave and another smile; it comes easier, more real with the way Geno grins back at him and waves back enthusiastically, accidentally smackin Max in the back of his head and seeming completely unbothered that he looks like a massive dork.

Next to him, Gonch snorts and shakes his head. “That boy,” he says, in English for Sidney’s benefit, and Sidney finds himself agreeing.

“Yeah. He’s something.”

Sidney would have liked to have joined them. Thinks he would have had a good time as long as Geno was there, but.

They’re in Montreal, so. Sidney can’t even go to the grocery store without being mobbed here.

Going out clubbing would have been a terrible idea.

**

The next time is in Philly, after a game they’d won handily, and no one even bothers to offer Sid a courtesy invitation to go out with them the way they sometimes do. For once, Sidney doesn’t mind that either.

He knows better than to test his luck around Flyers fans.

He’s settling into his bed in the room he shares with Colby, wearing an old Shattuck tee and a pair of Penguins sweats when there is a knock on the door.

Sidney grumbles under his breath, thinking it’s Colby who’s forgotten his key card again, but when he opens the door, it’s Geno on the other side.

“Hi,” Geno says.

Sidney blinks back at him. “Hello?”

Geno grins at him, wide and a little teasing, and holds up his hands to show Sidney the stack of books he has with him. “Homework,” he explains. “You help.” And then he’s muscling his way inside before Sidney even has time to process that and, “Hey!” Sid protests, because he knows better than to let Geno get away with treatment like that.

He’s already insisting that Sid is tiny, placing his big palms on Sidney’s hips to move him this way and that way whenever he wants, as if that is a perfectly okay thing to do. As if Sidney really is tiny even as he’s clearly not (even as everyone around him is just abnormally big).

Geno just laughs and settles into Sidney’s bed with his books. He glances at the TV, and then back at Sid, lifting his brows and moving the muscles in his jaw in a way that Sidney knows means Geno is judging him.

“Friends?” Geno says with a sad shake of his head.

“What? It’s a perfectly good show. What do you know anyway?”

Geno hums, scooting over on the bed and patting the covers to indicate he’s made room for Sid now too. “Not like Ross,” he says when Sidney settles in next to him, making sure that the remote is nowhere near Geno because this is Sid’s room, dammit, and if he wants to waste his night watching re-runs of Friends that’s what he’s going to do.

“Of course you don’t,” Sidney says agreeably. “Ross is the worst. Obviously.”

Geno hums again, but doesn’t say anything. Just sends a smirk Sidney’s way before he’s focusing on the homework his English tutor has assigned to him.

There are Russian instructions, and Geno, who Sidney has come to learn is one of the smartest and most intuitive people he knows, doesn’t need much help despite claiming that’s why he’s there; it allows Sidney to fall back into the drama of Phoebe and Rachel trying to trick Monica and Chandler to reveal their secret relationship and Joey bemoaning having to keep secrets at all.

It’s a good episode, and Sidney doesn’t even notice the way he’s tilting into Geno until he’s completely plastered against his side, turning to muffle his giggles into the warm fabric of Geno’s sweater, and glancing up at Geno to see if he’s as amused by the show as Sidney or of if he’s still focused on his homework.

But Geno isn’t looking at the TV, though, or the books in his lap. He’s looking at Sidney, his brown eyes are dark and hooded. There’s a smile on his face, smaller than his normal grin but somehow all the more raw.

Sidney’s breath hitches. “Hi,” he says, and feels a little breathless, a little anticipatory. As if something big is about to happen. Something huge and life altering.

Geno works his hand into Sid’s hair, tugging teasingly, and starts to lean down, eyes trained on Sidney’s lips.

Then there is a knock on the door, and Colby really did forget his keycard. The bastard.

Geno lets out a heavy sigh and leans back, unhurried. He moves the hand in Sidney’s hair and lets his fingertips trail over his forehead, down the slope of his nose, until they push teasingly at Sidney’s lower lip. Another knock on the door has him pulling back entirely.

“Sid!” Colby bellows from the hall.

“Answer door,” Geno tells him. He nudges Sidney pointedly.

“But—”

“Later,” Geno says at Sidney’s protest, and it sounds like a promise. “We do again.”  
  
Which is how Sid and Geno didn’t have their first kiss in Philly, but that’s okay.

They would get another chance. The next day, actually, and all the days that followed.


	133. Sid/OMCs, Sid/Geno - 5 times Sidney Crosby got married, 1 time he didn't regret it (WIP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please note that there is a tiny section of implied physical and emotional abuse in part 2. In no way is that based on or meant to reflect the person as he is in real life. This is purely fiction.

After his third divorce, it becomes something of a joke: Sidney Crosby, he of three divorces.

That’s how he’s introduced in the latest feature about him, and it’s not as if Sid gives a damn what some reporter with a god complex and an overinflated sense of entitlement thinks of him, but it still stings. Just a little bit.

(A lot.)

It’s something they laugh about, a funny joke, just another weird trivia about a guy who is known for being weird. They laugh, entertained by his failed marriages, by Sidney’s utter inability to make anyone _stay_ , and it’s not meant to be cruel, not really, not in the eyes of his friends and family, or his teammates that are as good as, but.

But Sidney hates it. All of it. The jokes and the comments and the three people he loved and married but didn’t love enough not to regret ever marrying in the first place.

The misconception is that Sidneyis the one who keeps being left. That he is the one who can’t make his husbands stay.

The truth is that _Sidney_ is the one who walks away; he’s the one who says, _I do,_ and then thinks, _Oh shit._

Sidney Crosby. He of three divorces.

And then four.

Possibly, Sidney should stop getting married.

***1: Alex Ovechkin***

Sidney is in Vegas the first time. It sets a trend, apparently, but he doesn’t think about this until after the third time.

Three times is a pattern and all that.

No, the first time, he doesn’t think at all. It’s the middle of June and the NHL Awards, and Sidney isn’t actually nominated for anything, but he’s still riding the high of his first ever Cup win, and Geno is there because _he_ isup for an award (the best one, the Hart), and then someone had said, “They’d like you to be there if you have the time, Sid. Shake some hands, pose with the Cup.”

Sidney _always_ has time to pose with the Cup. His now, at least until next June again.

It’s not his first time at the Awards, but it is the first time he can legally drink. Which makes all the difference, apparently.

(Vegas is surprisingly stringent about underage drinking.)

Sidney isn’t entirely sure who hands him the first drink, but he thinks it was Jagr, or possibly Shanahan, who is so clearly put out at being there that Sidney downs all three drinks the man pushes at him just to keep him from looking so miserable.

“Fucking kids,” Shanahan says with grim amusement as he watches Sidney swallowing around the alcohol. “It’s all about youth now. Speed. Skill. No space for an old man.” He sounds wistful, but doesn’t look as sad as Sidney would be at the prospect of retirement knocking on his door.

Everyone knows Shanahan has probably played his last hockey, sitting out half the season before going back to the Devils, but Sidney hopes he isn’t done yet. Hopes there is another season left in him.

There is always more hockey to play, after all.

Next to them, Jagr cackles before downing his own drink. “Not so old yet,” he says. “Plenty of good hockey left.”

Shanahan’s lips stretch into a reluctant smile. “You’re only three years younger than me. _Where_ do you find the energy?”

“Secret,” Jagr says with a grin and a touch of his index finger to the side of his nose. “Have to keep the young ones…how you say?” He trails off, looking at them for help.

“Guessing?” Sidney suggests, and when they both turn their gaze on him, these hockey legends, people that Sid has looked up to, that he’s admired since he was just a little boy, he licks his lips nervously and offers a crooked smile that probably looks as bad as it feels.

He is saved from making a bigger fool of himself by the arrival of Geno and, just a step behind him, Alex.

“Sid!” Geno exclaims and throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Here you are,” Alex says as he joins them at Sid’s other side. He slips his arm around Sidney’s waist, hand settling casually at his hip, and Sidney is suddenly trapped between two bodies and feeling oddly comfortable.

That would be the alcohol he’s consumed; it’s already working through his body, lowering his inhibitions enough that he allows himself to lean against Alex’s side in public, and to reach up to tangle his fingers with the hand Geno has resting over his shoulder.

Sidney has always been an affectionate drunk.

And besides, it’s _Geno_ , who is team and family. And Alex. Who is not, but still _Alex_ , and Sid and Alex doesn’t have nearly as an antagonistic relationship as the hockey media thinks they do. Not even after the playoffs.

“We steal Sid now. Have…things to do.”

Jagr chuckles and shares a knowing look with Shanahan. “Go. Be young and foolish.” He shoos them away with a wink and a careless wave. “Have fun.”

Sidney blinks at him. Jagr is…thirty seven? Thirty eight? No, thirty seven. Which isn’t—

Okay, no. It is old. Oldish. At least in hockey terms.

But to look at Sid, and at Alex, at Geno, as if they’re just a bunch of stupid kids is pushing it. Sidney is a Cup winner. The youngest captain in NHL history. The youngest _Cup_ -winning captain in NHL history. 

He is more than just a dumb kid.

He is, so much more, and still dumb enough to get drunk and married in Vegas.

“Don’t panic,” Alex says when Sidney wakes up the next morning and is very clearly doing just that. There is a band of gold around his finger and a matching one on Alex. There is a pleasant ache between Sidney’s thighs and a not so pleasant one at the back of his head.

Sidney isn’t entirely convinced the ache is just a hangover headache. He has vague memories about bumping his head against something hard—a headboard? Possibly the headboard behind him?

There is the sound of someone groaning from the floor, and Sidney’s brows go up. He peers over the side of the bed, eyes widening as he catches sight of Geno curled in on himself, long limbs tucked tight to his chest. He looks absolutely miserable.

“ _Geno_?” he croaks out, incredulous. _What the hell happened last night?_

“Don’t worry. His one-night stand throw him out and he come here. Only been here for two hours.”

Sidney drags his eyes away from Geno at the explanation and looks back at Alex. “And he curled up on the _floor_?” he asks, because it wouldn’t have been the first time the three of them shared a bed—to _sleep_ —and Geno really does not look comfortable at all.

Alex shrugs. “Seem wrong to have him in bed with us now. Not proper.”

 _Not proper_. Because Sidney and Alex are married. They’d gotten married last night and Sidney has the ring to prove it.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. He’s married. Fucking _married._ What is he going to _do_?

“Sid,” Alex says cautiously. “Is okay. Come here.” He tugs at Sidney, manhandling him until Sidney is pressed flush against him with Alex’s arm holding him tight, and that is familiar, something Sid has grown used to in the time that Sid and Alex have done their thing.

Not quite dating, not quite casual. More than fucking but less of a relationship with Sidney in Pittsburgh and Alex in Washington.

It’s hard to build a relationship when they live in different cities and see each other so rarely, but Sidney likes what they are, likes what they’re doing, what they’ve _been_ doing.

Getting married was not in the plan.

“I know you freak out now, but isn’t bad. I love you, Sid. Do you love me?”

And yes, Sidney does love him, but.

But.

“I—Alex. Of course, I—” Sidney cuts himself off. He takes a deep breath, settling more firmly against Alex and nosing at his collarbone. “I love you,” he says, because that is true and Alex shouldn’t be doubting it.

Geno makes a sound like a dying whale and Sidney grins into Alex’s skin. “And you too, G,” he adds and chuckles at Geno’s satisfied grunt before focusing back on Alex. He lifts his head enough to lock eyes with him, smiling gently. He leans in to steal a kiss. “I love you, Alex,” he says again. “But marriage. I—I’m not ready for that.”

Alex hums and steals his own kiss, hands lifting to card through Sidney’s hair.

It feels unbearably good. Sidney closes his eyes, savouring the moment.

“If you want to end this, we do,” Alex tells him. “But I want try. Want to see if we can make work. Want you, Sid. Please. Let’s try.”

Sidney stares into Alex’s eyes, so uncharacteristically serious, and thinks, _This isn’t going to work._

He says, “Okay.”

**

Sidney files for divorce two months later, citing irreconcilable differences.

Alex is disappointed, sad, but he signs the papers without protest.

“I’m so sorry,” Sidney says, and he is, because he never meant to hurt Alex and he knows that what they were before is over now. There is no going back.

Maybe if things were different, if they didn’t see each other so rarely, it could have worked. But even the summer hasn’t afforded them much time together and Sidney can’t be married and have his husband live in a different state from him. That just doesn’t work for him, and he’s sorry for hurting Alex but he won’t apologise for this; neither of them are willing to make a move, to ask for the trade that would bring them together.

Sidney isn’t even sure such a trade would be possible.

Alex offers him a strained smile. “I’m sorry too,” he says, and when he leaves, it’s with a parting kiss. Their last, Sidney knows, and feels gutted with the knowledge.

They’ve had this thing between them since Sidney was eighteen, and that’s _years_ even if the actual time spent together doesn’t equal to nearly as much. And now everything will change.

Sidney isn’t only losing a husband. He’s losing one of his best friends.

**

All told, their marriage lasted for seventy three days. It makes both their Wikipedia pages.

* * *

***2: Shea Weber***

The second time Sid gets married is right after Vancouver. Like, _right_ after. Off the high of winning a gold medal, of having scored _the_ goal, Sidney should have sensed the pattern already then when he ends up saying _I do_ to Shea Weber with Patrice looking on with a worried frown on his face and Getzy and Pearsy drunk out of their minds and acting as witnesses.

Sid doesn’t even remember whose idea it was to spend their few days off in Vegas while they celebrated their gold medal. He vaguely remembers Jonny saying it was a bad idea even as he packed his bags to join them,

—“Seriously, _such_ a bad idea.” _—_

but it hadn’t seemed like it at the time. It never does, and that is Sidney’s problem. For the most part.

Certainly, it’s how he’s ended up in a chapel along the Strip with an Elvis impersonator crooning about love and declaring them lawfully wedded by the “power vested in me by the state of Nevada. You may now kiss!”

Sidney presses up onto his toes and resolutely does not think about Alex or how Sidney has only been divorced for half a year and now he’s getting married again.

Besides, it’s hard to think about anything else when Shea is kissing him like that, wet and messy and plenty of tongue.

Getzy and Pears are hollering their approval somewhere in the background, and Patrice is clapping, but Sidney hears his mumbled, “Jonny was right. This was a bad idea,” over the noise anyway.

He resolutely doesn’t think about that either.

He tries not to think about anything at all as he swallows glass after glass of champagne and clings to the feeling of being happy and loved, of loving someone else enough to want to spend the rest of his life with them.

Because that is the thing with Sidney. He falls in love often and hard, and every time he thinks, _This is it_ , even as some secret part of him, deep inside his heart, knows that isn’t true.

It wasn’t true before, and isn’t true now, and two weeks into his marriage, Sidney is painfully reminded why he’d called it quits with Alex; if he thought the distance was bad before, it’s heart wrenching now, knowing he won’t see Shea until maybe the playoffs, and even then it could be weeks and months.

“Does he love you?” Alex asks him when Sid calls him, wretched and heartbroken because if it didn’t work with Alex, how is Sidney supposed to make it work with Shea who is stuck all the way back in Nashville?

“Yes,” Sidney answers, and he knows that Shea does. Theirs is an Olympic fling turned impulsive Vegas wedding, but the love between them is real for whatever that is worth. “He loves me, and I love him.”

It’s maybe not what Alex wants to hear from him so soon after their divorce, but Alex has always been a better friend than Sidney deserves and he proves it again when he says, “Then try, Sid. Try with him. Find way to make it work. Be happy.”

And this is _Alex_. The man who married him, who never wanted a divorce but gave it to Sidney anyway because it is what Sid needed, so Sidney will try.

He tries through the rest of the season, through the playoffs and the painful second-round exit after having made it to the Final two years in a row. He tries when neither of them are busy with hockey and suddenly Shea and Sidney have all the time in the world, and impossibly, between Pittsburgh and Nashville and Canada, it _works._ It works, and Sidney thinks, _Maybe_.

And then Shea’s mother gets sick, and by the time she passes, Shea is shattered, so fragile and so raw that any one small thing can set him off, and Sidney doesn’t have it in him to try anymore.

He loves Shea, but he can’t be there for him in the way Shea needs, the way he deserves, and Sidney refuses to be the silent, enduring partner who just takes it when Shea explodes into a rage or becomes mean and sullen when he falls into one of his moods.

He needs help, but it’s not the kind Sidney can provide, not when the new season is just around the corner and they’re already weeks into training; when Shea begs him to stay, cries that he’s sorry, that he never means any of the things he says, Sidney already knows it’s over.

Shea lets him go, grudgingly, but he lets him go.

**

By the time Shea remarries three years later, Sidney is a guest at the wedding and looking at Shea doesn’t hurt the way it used to. There is no pain, not even a pang of sorrow, though there is the smallest hint of regret that they hadn’t been able to work it out. It’s more bittersweet than anything, really.

Shea is Sid’s friend again, and while there is love between them still, well, theirs was always just a fling first, wasn’t it?

Shea is happy now, and Sidney is happy for him.

**

Sidney and Shea were married for six months, the same amount of time that passed between Sid’s first divorce to his second marriage.

There is a joke in that, Sid knows.

He hears it all the time.

* * *

***3: Kevin Fuller***

The third time he gets married, Sidney has been divorced for a full year. He’s not drunk this time, but not exactly in his right mind either.

 _Emotionally compromised_ is what he’ll admit to later.

Sidney has been in constant pain for more than half a year, been off the ice for almost as long, and has finally resigned himself to the idea that he might never play hockey again.

The concussion is all he thinks about some days, the concussion and when he’ll be back on the ice. If he ever will be.

Other days there is no room for thinking. Only pain.

Meeting Kevin on a good day—when the misery of what his life has become doesn’t feel so overwhelming—is like a breath of fresh air.

Kevin is so far removed from everything hockey that Sidney doesn’t think they’d have much in common if they had met at any other point in Sid’s life. He’s not even sure he’d like Kevin very much—except for the obvious, anyway, because if nothing else, Kevin is _exactly_ Sidney’s type. Tall, broad shouldered. Just a little bit of a jerk.

Besides the attraction, Kevin really isn’t the kind of guy Sidney would usually allow himself to go for.

But they meet in the waiting room of a private practice in Vegas, Sidney a patient and Kevin a doctor, but not _Sidney’s_ doctor, and that makes all the difference.

Because Sidney sees Kevin, is introduced to him and thinks, _He’s hot_ , and instead of letting it remain a passing fancy, something easily ignored, Sidney’s attention is caught—and held.

Kevin is a good few years older than him. Thirty six to Sidney’s twenty four; he knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. What he wants is Sidney, and Sid, well, he likes the attention, likes having something that is _good_ and _happy_ that he can focus on besides the chronic pain and the on-and-off-again vertigo.

When Kevin proposes after nineteen days of a whirlwind romance, he explains that he is ready to settle down, that we wants to start a family soon, and that he’d be willing to relocate to Pittsburgh if Sid ever recovers enough to resume playing hockey, but otherwise he would like for them to settle in Vegas.

It’s not until after the wedding—a proper one, with guests and a minister and the exchanging of rings—that Sidney finds out _soon_ means _now_ and _willing to relocate_ means _maybe_.

The relocation issue would have been more of a problem if Sid hadn’t been injured again; he takes another elbow to the head in just his eight game back since returning from the concussion, and Sidney knows even before he’s made it off the ice that it’s bad.

And it is. He’s out again, first a couple of games as a precaution, but then indefinitely, and Sidney finds himself back in Vegas at the private practice with his husband working in the office three doors down.

Kevin worries for his health constantly, but he’s happy that Sidney is back with him, that he’s not in Pittsburgh playing, and Sidney isn’t, can’t, ever be happy about that, and that’s when the fighting starts.

They have a ceasefire through Christmas and New Year’s, spending the holidays with Sidney’s family back in Cole Harbour, but as they return to Vegas in January, and January becomes February and Sidney still isn’t recovering, the fighting gets worse.

By the time Sidney is finally, miraculously, cleared to play in March, they’ve stopped speaking, and Kevin is noticeably absent from Sid’s (second) first game back. He shows up only at a few games through what’s left of the season, and none at all for the playoffs, the six games they play before the Flyers eliminate them.

 _Trouble In Paradise?_ one paper wonders, and while it makes him grit his teeth, Sidney can’t actually deny that, even with the excuse of Kevin commuting from Vegas, of the practice that takes up so much of his time. It’s what Sidney reminds the reporters that clamour for a sound bite, but he can’t bring himself to keep up the farce to the people who matter. He doesn’t want to, anyway.

Even when his friends and family constantly try to butt into his relationship.

But.

“Isn’t right, Sid,” Geno says, once, and Geno never gets involved in Sidney’s relationships, practically the only one who doesn’t have some kind of comment about the boys Sidney bring home (about the men he marries). Geno has always been content to let Sid figure things out for himself, but he’s chosen to speak up now, so Sidney takes his words to heart.

It isn’t right, and it hasn’t been for months. Kevin won’t move from Vegas and Sidney won’t give up hockey. He knows that now.

“You can’t keep doing this, kiddo,” his dad says when Sidney signs the divorce papers. “I want you to be happy, but this isn’t healthy; you can’t keep getting married and divorced over and over again.”

“I am happy,” Sidney insists, and then, “was,” he corrects at his dad’s knowing stare.

Sidney might not have been at the best place emotionally when he started seeing Kevin, but he had been happy—or as happy he could have been at that point in his life: a state of constant ache and the future of his career in limbo.

(In retrospect, Sidney probably shouldn’t have accepted Kevin’s proposal in the first place.)

**

Sidney and Kevin were married for nine months. If nothing else, Sid takes comfort in the fact that his marriages seem to last just a little bit longer every time he says _I do_.

* * *

***4: Evgeni Malkin***

The fourth time is as a favour to Geno.

Ironically, this is the one time he doesn’t marry for love—or, well, not because he’s _in_ love, anyway—but it’s the marriage that lasts the longest.

He gets a call in the middle of the night, and when Sid answers the phone, he wasn’t expecting it to be Geno on the other end, or for Geno to say, “Sid! Need to marry you.”

Sidney takes a moment to ponder over whether or not he’s still sleeping and if this isn’t only a dream. “What?”

“Marry you. Need citizenship. Russia want keep me here, but can’t if I have Canadian citizenship.”

“ _What_?” Sidney says again, a lot more awake this time. He throws the covers to the side and climbs out of bed, because if he’s going to get through this conversation, he’s going to need caffeine.

“Sid,” Geno complains, and of course he sounds annoyed, as if Sidney should be all caught up already and not worrying over the fact that the Russian government is apparently going to be detaining Geno— _what the fuck?_

Sidney breathes in deep and rubs a couple of fingers against his temple, feeling the phantom sting of an oncoming headache as he makes his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. “Geno,” he snaps back. “Explain.”

Geno does, and apparently, while Sid has remained in Pittsburgh, doggedly trying to resolve the lockout before it claims the whole season, Magnitogorsk has basked in the return of their prodigal son and now, having him at his rightful place, Metallurg doesn’t want to let him go.

Sidney knows, in an abstract kind of way, that hockey and politics are more intertwined in Russia than they are elsewhere, but the fact that Geno sounds legitimately worried that he would be stopped if he were to try and make it out of the country is more terrifying than Sidney knows how to put into words.

“Can they do that?” he asks, frowning down at his coffee cup as if it holds all the answers he needs.

“Is Russia, Sid,” is all Geno says, which means, _Yes. They can_.

Sidney doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing, and lets Geno explain how and when they need to do this if Sid agrees to go through with it.

“Of course, I’ll do it,” Sid says at some point, exasperated. “I’m not gonna let you get stuck in Russia when you need to be in Pittsburgh. Christ.”

And maybe the season really will be canceled and the Penguins won’t actually need Geno just yet, but _Sid_ will, and besides, Geno has asked and Sid has never been particularly good at denying him, especially when Geno asks for so little, usually. Especially when Geno is one of the best people he knows.

So that’s how Sidney ends up quietly making a trip to the Czech Republic, officially to visit Jaromir in Kladno if anyone asks, but really to marry Geno inbetween Metallurg playing Lev Prague for a regular season game and the team returning to Russia.

It’s a forty-five minute drive between Kladno and Prague, and twice on the drive over, Jaromir asks, “Are you sure about this?” and “Have you told Mario?” and “Does _anyone_ know you’re here? What you’re about to do?”

Sidney answers him calmly; he can’t afford not to, because if he’s freaking out then _Geno_ might freak out, and if they’re both too busy freaking out to get married, Geno might never return to the States and—

“Yes,” Sidney says placidly. “I’m sure.” He doesn’t say that Mario doesn’t know, that he’s barely even spoken to Mario since the lockout began, and he doesn’t say that out of everyone he knows, only Jagr, Geno, and his dad know what he’s about to do. That’s enough, though.

It has to be.

Sidney and Geno say their _I do_ s in a small orthodox church on the outskirts of the city centre. Jaromir stands witness for Sid, and a short Norwegian by the name of Mats Zuccarello stands witness for Geno.

“Need someone not Russian,” Geno explains with an easy grin and a careless shrug when Sidney asks, as if they weren’t getting married because of Russia’s dubious politics and possibly corrupt government (“Definitely corrupt,” Geno says resigned, but somehow _fond_ , the idiot, and lifts his shoulders in a _What can you do_ kind of way).

Sidney finds it incredibly worrying that apparently Geno has been so worried about getting detained that he hasn’t even trusted one of his Russian friends to stand witness for him, but he assures Sidney that Mats is a good guy and that he won’t spill the beans to anyone.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mats says, adding his own assurance, and Sidney lifts his brows, less than impressed by this tiny Norwegian he knows nothing about.

“You will,” Geno says later, before Sid and Jaromir step back into the car that will take them back to Kedno before anyone finds out where they are, where _Sid_ is and what he’s done. “Zucca too good not to play for NHL. You see.”

“You’re gonna be okay?” Sidney says instead of acknowledging that. He doesn’t like leaving Geno like this, with the uncertainty of how long the lockout will hold out and when their papers will go through so Geno can leave Russia with a Canadian citizenship.

Doesn’t like the feeling of not being in control.

Geno shrugs again and tugs Sidney into a hug. “Not worry so much, Sid,” he says as he wraps his arms around Sidney’s waist before he snakes his big palms down over the meat of Sid’s ass to steal a grope. He wiggles his brows obnoxiously, tongue sticking out of his mouth in a teasing gesture. “We have quickie before you go?”

Sidney rolls his eyes with extreme prejudice and pushes him away. “Asshole,” he says. “I hope they do stop you at the border.”

Geno grins, unrepentant. “No, you don’t,” he says simply.

And well. No.

**

When the lockout finally ends and there is NHL hockey to play again, Geno _is_ stopped at the border. His papers are in order, though, and even the Russian government doesn’t want to start a mess involving someone who is for all intents and purposes, a Canadian citizen—even if he’s only so through marriage.

Sidney doesn’t know how the whole thing is kept out of the papers, but no one who didn’t already know finds out, and it stays a secret for years, Sid and Geno quietly married for all that time.

And then _Geno_ is the one who meets someone, and Sid knows from the moment Geno introduces him to her that this one is special. And Geno can’t marry _her_ if he’s already married to _Sid_.

So Sidney does the inevitable. He asks for a divorce.

“Is time,” Geno agrees, and when they get around to arrange it all and their signatures are on all the right papers, he kisses the top of Sidney’s head and says, “You get right sometime, Sid. Know you do. Find perfect husband and live perfect life.”

And Sid is maybe crying a little, more saddened by the prospect of having to let Geno go than he thought he would be. “Already had the perfect husband,” Sidney says, because that is true even if Sid and Geno don’t love each other that way. And Sidney has missed romance and sex and someone to come home to, but Geno has still been so very good to him. He always has been.

Geno makes a face at that, though, pained, and Sidney can’t have that, can’t have Geno questioning whether or not this divorce is the best thing for them, so he says, “The next one for sure,” even if he doesn’t really believe that. Even if he’s half convinced he won’t ever get married again. Four time is enough for anyone.

“Next time,” Geno agrees. “For sure,” he adds on, in a gentle, teasing mimicry of Sid. He tugs at Sidney until Sid lets himself fall against Geno’s chest, sighing contentedly as Geno wraps his long arms around him, and that is good. That is safe and familiar. That he can still have Geno like this makes it all better, makes him feel the pain a little less.

“Love you,” Geno whispers into his hair, and Sidney’s breath hitches even as he returns the sentiment faithfully, even as he hides his tears against Geno’s shoulder, bitter and so, so sad that despite the consolation and comfort those words were meant as, all Sidney feels is regret.


	134. Sid/Geno + Alex Ovechkin - Friendship, teenagers, jersey

For [arrghigiveup](http://tmblr.co/mDVvGXdBhHXDSIOWZJg6ZJw) who wanted a fic based on [this tweet](http://hazel-3017.tumblr.com/post/118213459056).

Sid holds out his jersey in offer and Ovi narrows his eyes at him thoughtfully for a moment. Around them, the crew is eyeing them curiously as they go about their business.

Sidney grinds his heel against the floor to keep from shifting restlessly. It seems like time is frozen it goes by so slowly; he feels his arm shaking, is just about to let it drop along with his jersey when Ovi reaches out and plucks it out of his hand.

“You sign it too? Will be worth lots.” He winks at Sid, that gap-toothed grin of his firmly in place.

Sidney remembers that grin from games played – after a hit against the boards or just before a face off. He’s always thought it cocky and arrogant, and it is, but Ovi looks fond too, as if Sid amuses him, as if he’s someone Ovi feels affectionate about.

Which is weird, because Sid and Ovi are not friends, nor are they rivals for all the media tries to make them so.

In fact, they don’t really see much of each other outside of games.

Now though, Ovi pulls off his own jersey, snags a pen from a passing intern, and scrawls out his signature on top of the white lettering on the back. His grin widens.

“Here,” he says. “Put on. Have to take picture and send to Zhenya. He’ll be very jealous.”

Sidney blinks at him. He does not know who this Zhenya person is or why he’ll be jealous, but it seems rude to decline, so Sid puts on the jersey, wrinkling his nose a little at how big it is, and lets Ovi move him into different poses as he snaps pictures with his phone.

At some point, Sid’s jersey ends up on Ovi, and their respective PR representatives look ready to burst from glee as they hunt down the real photographer and make them pose together in their borrowed jerseys.

“PR gold,” one of them says, the other nodding enthusiastically in the background.

Sidney eyes them warily.

It takes nearly another hour before they’re done and Sid and his people are on a bus back to the airport. He’s exhausted, slanted over in his seat with his head resting against the window when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He frowns, is barely awake as he checks his phone for a new message. It’s from Ovi; Sid doesn’t even know how Ovi got his number.

_Photoshoot take long time, but had fun today. I send pics to Zhenya. He’s such big fan! Will be so jealous!_

Sid can practically hear Ovi’s mad cackle over the last bit, and he wonders again who this Zhenya person is and why Ovi keeps talking about him as if Sid knows him too.

(It will take him a few years before he understands, and when he does, it’s because he stumbles over a couple of old printed pictures in a drawer in Geno’s house. It’s Sid, looking young and baby faced. He’s wearing an Ovechkin jersey of all things, and next to him is the man himself, grinning wide and smug at the camera.

“Sid? You find the scissors?” Geno asks as he walks into the room. He stops up short when Sidney looks up at him with wide eyes, holding out the picture in his hand wordlessly.

“Oh,” Geno says.

“Where- where did you get these? I barely even remember it.”

Geno blushes and rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sanja give. He send to me when I’m still in Russia. Wanted to make me jealous.”

Something prickles at the back of Sid’s mind. “ _You_ are Zhenya? Ovi’s friend? But why would you be jealous?” he asks when Geno nods.

And well, that turns out to be another conversation entirely.)


	135. Sid/Geno + Derrick Pouliot - Geno using Derrick's stick (that's not a euphemism)

It starts, as most things do, Derrick has come to learn, with Sidney.

Admittedly, Geno’s been in something of a slump since getting back from the groin injury, scrounging up only four points in nine games since his return–and Derrick absolutely refuses to think about Beau and Borts’ theory that the ‘groin injury’ is really just code for Sid and Geno getting freaky (Derrick doesn’t ever want to contemplate the idea of a broken dick. The horror).

Sidney, who’s only fared a little better during this stretch, suggests it might be Geno’s stick.

“What you mean?” Geno demands, looking affronted that Sidney would even suggest such a thing. Which is weird, Derrick thinks, because unlike Sid, Geno has a pretty relaxed relationship with his sticks.

“It’s the curve,” says Sidney, nodding decisively. “Too much curve.”

“You too much curve,” Geno grumbles under his breath nonsensically. He’s usually better at comebacks than that, but Sid is applying lip balm to his lips and it’s rather distracting. Even Derrick blushes a little, and as pretty as Sid is (he’s not blind, okay? He can admit that Sid is attractive), Derrick is about as straight as they come.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Sid says, because he likes to be on point like that, and Geno says, “ _You_ don’t make sense.”

Derrick is about to get the hell out of there, because other than the three of them, the dressing room is oddly empty, and he has no desire to get caught up in Sid and Geno’s whatever. He suspects it wouldn’t end well for him. Before he can leave, though, Sid says, “You should try Polly’s stick,” and Derrick freezes mid-stride.

He turns his head to see Sid and Geno staring at him, considering.

“You’ve got a couple of extra sticks, don’t you, Polly,” Sid says, so straightforward Derrick is pretty sure it doesn’t constitute as an actual question.

“Uh.”

“You should use one of them, G,” Sidney continues blithely. “The blade is not as straight as mine, of course, but it’s got way less curve than the one you’re using now.”

Derrick is…pretty sure that’s accurate, actually. He doesn’t know why Sid is keeping track of the kind of blade he uses for his stick, though. He’s a little creeped out about it, to be honest.

Geno narrows his eyes thoughtfully, and Derrick isn’t quite sure why, but he holds his breath, waiting.

Finally, Geno shakes his head. “Don’t need new stick,” he says, stubborn.

He stalks out of the dressing room before Sid gets the chance to argue with him. He snorts. “So stubborn,” he says, more to himself than anything, Derrick thinks; he sounds fond.

“Don’t worry, Polly. He’ll come asking for the stick before the game, I’ll bet on it,” Sid tells him, and because Sid is not a betting man (unless he already knows there is no way he can lose), he’s right, of course.

Derrick doesn’t know why Sid felt the need to pacify him–as if Derrick was disappointed Geno didn’t want to use his stick. He’s relieved, truth be told. What if Geno had borrowed his stick and played a horrible game? Surely, Derrick would be blamed.

He thinks he’s managed to avoid such a fate when Geno finds him later, one of Derrick’s backup sticks in his hand.

“Polly!” he says, brandishing the stick. “Can I use it? Can I tape it up and use it?”

He’s staring so intently at Derrick there’s really nothing else to do but say, “Sure, man,” and desperately attempt to not look as intimidated as he feels.

Geno smiles, shark like, and takes off.

He goes out and scores two slick, backhand goals against the Panthers that night.

After, when they’re all wooing together in the dressing room and celebrating their 5-1 win to the beat of _Uptown Funk_ , Derrick looks across the room in the middle of a “Whoo!” and meets Geno’s eyes.

He’s in an obviously good mood, one arm waving in the air to the beat, and the other wrapped around Sid’s waist (hand resting indecently low on his hip, which they are all politely ignoring). He grins, frighteningly wide, when he catches Derrick looking.

Derrick…Derrick has a bad feeling about this.


	136. Sid/Geno - Keeping the other person warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheesewithmy-deactivated2015051 inquired: oooooh s/g 27?
> 
> #27: Keeping the other person warm

Zhenya’s blood runs hot. It always has.

As a child, his mother used to tell him the fire in his blood burned so strong that it seeped into his emotions. It’s why he would get so temperamental at times, why he was so passionate, she’d say.

Now, an adult, Zhenya supposes that’s still true, and while he likes to think he’s gotten better at controlling his emotions, there are people who’d strongly disagree. People like Coach. Or Sidney.

So Zhenya’s blood runs hot and his body does too. He radiates so much heat he can’t ever remember having a partner that had actually enjoyed sleeping nextto him. He’d once had a girlfriend who got up in the middle of the night to take a shower—she needed to cool down, she said, because she was burning up, lying next to Zhenya.

It’s maybe a little inconvenient at times, but generally, his body temperature is not something he thinks about all that much.

That is until Sidney starts acting weird.

*

Zhenya is quietly reading a book, minding his own business when he hears Flower’s incredulous, “What the hell?”

He looks up, curious as to what’s going on, and blinks when he sees Sidney, walking down the aisle towards Zhenya’s row.

Sidney usually never gets up from his seat once they’re in the air. Even on longer flights he only rarely gets up to use the lavatory—to see him up and about now is such an abnormality Zhenya is not the only one staring.

“Hey,” Sidney says quietly, and before Zhenya gets a chance to respond, he’s stepping over Zhenya’s feet, the swell of Sidney’s ass dangerously close as he shuffles past, claiming the seat next to Zhenya’s.

Zhenya stares at him. He has no idea what’s happening here. “Hello?” he tries, and Sidney only smiles at him, quick and bright before he’s lifting the armrest between them, tucking himself close to Zhenya’s side. He’s shivering, Zhenya notices, but he sighs now, seemingly satisfied, and closes his eyes—and because Sidney is a hockey player and has learnt the art of napping anywhere at anytime, he’s asleep in seconds.

“The fuck?” Zhenya mutters under his breath. He looks back up the aisle, meeting Flower’s gaze. He looks as taken aback as Zhenya himself, maybe even a little offended.

Finally, Flower shrugs helplessly and turns back in his seat.

Right. Zhenya still has no idea what’s happening, but Sidney seems unlikely to move anytime soon, and besides, Zhenya doesn’t want to disturb his sleep. Sidney’s been particularly stressed lately, shouldering the Pens’ recent scoring troubles as if it is his burden to bear alone.

The least Zhenya can do is let him rest in peace.

*

Zhenya has almost written off the strange occurrence as a one-time thing. But a few days later, as a few of the guys wait outside a local bar for their cab to pull up, Sidney presses into Zhenya’s space, snakes his arms under Zhenya’s coat and sneaks his hands under his untucked shirt.

Zhenya hisses in shock at the sudden cold as Sidney’s cool hands presses against the skin of his back. He looks down at where Sidney’s head is resting against his chest, his face hidden by the lapels of Zhenya’s unbuttoned coat.

Unsure of what else to do, Zhenya wraps his arms around him, holding him close as the guys chat around them.

“Uhm, guys? Whatcha doing there?”

Zhenya turns his head to see Duper staring at them with his brows arched. He looks pointedly from Zhenya to where Sid is wrapped up around him.

Zhenya shakes his head. He really has no clue what is happening here.

“Sid?” Duper asks, and other than huffing out a breath, Sidney seems perfectly content where he is.

“I’m cold,” he explains when Duper reaches over to prod at his shoulder. His words are slightly slurred, and Zhenya had not realised he was this drunk.

He scowls at Duper, batting his hand away before drawing Sidney tighter to him. Zhenya has warmth enough for them both, he thinks, and determines to keep Sidney warm until he can bundle him into their cab.

*

He thinks he’s beginning to clue in to what is going on, but it’s not until they’re at a team meeting before Zhenya really understands.

He’s paying close attention to what Coach is saying about zone entries when he feels a gentle nudge at his side. He startles, obvious enough that Coach pauses mid-speech and some of the guys turn to look at him.

“Geno?” Mike asks patiently. “Do you have something to add?”

Zhenya shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. He waves a hand to indicate he should continue on, and waits a few seconds before he turns to acknowledge Sidney.

“What?” he hisses out under his breath, glaring at him accusingly.

Sidney grins, eyes bright and mischievous as he stares back at Zhenya.

“Cold,” he says.

Zhenya is about to ask what he expects him to do about it, but Sidney, seated directly behind him, is already removing his crocs, lifting his bare feet to the back of Zhenya’s chair. He pokes at Zhenya with his toes until Zhenya sighs and gives in, leaning forward so Sidney can tuck his feet under Zhenya’s ass.

“Thanks,” Sidney whispers quietly, and the thing is, he sounds grateful, as though he really was very cold and Zhenya made it better.

Zhenya ducks his head. “Welcome,” he says and means it. Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship, and Zhenya—Zhenya kind of likes it, keeping Sid warm and comfortable.

He might even like to keep doing it.

*

Zhenya wakes up in stages.

There are legs tangled in between his own, an added weight on his chest. He can feel puffs of air on his skin, and fingers, tracing a nondescript pattern across his collarbone.

He smiles.

“Morning,” he says, opening his eyes to find Sidney smiling back at him.

“Good morning.” He tilts his head, and Zhenya obliges, lifting his head to meet Sidney’s mouth for a kiss, soft and feather light.

Sidney hums. He firms his lips, deepening the kiss until Zhenya is feeling a lot more awake, other parts of him wakening as well.

He strokes his hand through Sidney’s hair. “Cold?” he asks. He knows he’s not, because Zhenya’s blood runs hot and his body does too, and Sidney, he steals his heat, makes it his own—because Sidney is his opposite. If Zhenya’s veins burn like fire, than Sidney’s are frozen like ice.

He loves the ice, even if he’s always cold, even if he always seems to be one degree short of shivering.

But not with Zhenya. Never with Zhenya.

Sidney smiles at him, small and private, just for him. “Yes,” he says. It’s a lie, but that’s okay. It’s just an excuse for Zhenya to warm him up.

And that part, they both enjoy.


	137. Sid/Geno - Fluff, shovel talk, found family, protective friends (Friendly Advice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon said: Do you think that all 25 of Sids friends gave Geno the shovel talk? Or did they elect Representatives?

I think they tried.

Truth be told, Sid is a bit of a Hot Mess when it comes to relationships. Capital letters and all.

Aaron has watched the cycle of **1**. meet person, **2**. fall in lust, **3**. date, **4**. crash and burn, and **5**. move on to the next one for as long as Sidney has been old enough to know what attraction means—and even before Sid ever took the time of day to look at another guy twice, when Aaron and a couple of the other neighbourhood kids would have to have a chat with whoever was sniffing around a clueless Sid before they wisely left it alone.

Usually, Aaron and his friends’ friendly piece of advice to back the hell off has been enough, but sometimes, they’ve had to let their fists do the talking.

Which Sidney would have been appalled at had he known, but Aaron has made sure he doesn’t. So.

It was a system that worked from the time Sid was thirteen and all the way up until he had to leave for Shattuck. By then, he was sixteen and the idiots making passes at his _underage_ friend had grown in number and age. Aaron’s friendly advice got a lot less friendly back then.

It got better and worse when Sid was away. Better, because stuck in a boarding school there were only so many people Sidney could get involved with. Worse, because somehow that number was still staggeringly high and Aaron wasn’t there to look over him anymore.

Which is how he becomes friends with Jack Johnson and recruits him to his cause once Aaron makes the trip to Minnesota for a visit. Although not before he gives Jack a little friendly advice of his own and explains why Jack will never get anywhere with Sid: “Look, I adore the kid, but he’s a love ‘em and leave ’em kind of guy. You might have him one week or even a month, but soon he’ll exchange you for someone else.”

And it’s not as if Sidney is a bad guy. It’s the complete opposite, in fact, but he falls fast and never very hard, and in the end, his longest relationship lasted three months before he got tired and moved on. Even at sixteen, that was an age for Sid.

Jack, once he knows what’s what, is an impeccable ally. He’s better at keeping guys away than Aaron has ever been and, “Seriously, what is with the older dudes and the jailbait kink? Do they not care that he’s only sixteen?” he asks, exasperated, during another one of Aaron’s visits, and Aaron, who is already six years older than Jack and Sid, chooses to blithely bypass that comment entirely.

“Just keep up the good work,” he says, and offers Sid a strained smile when he looks over from where he’s being chatted up by the guy manning the register; Sidney had only gone over to ask for more napkins.

Aaron sighs, pained. This always happens when he takes Sid out to eat.

**

By the time Sid wins that first Cup, things are at an alltime critical.

First of all, Sid hasn’t been jailbait in quite some time, which seems to have been the biggest deterrent no matter how many times Aaron and his friends had to warn off guys.

Second of all, Sid loses his baby fat. This, more than anything, opens the floodgates.

Aaron, who is as straight as they come, will freely admit that Sidney looks good—when Sid has to get new teeth and finally gets to an age (thirty, hah!) where he can grow a semi-decent beard, his good looks only improve.

Which, okay, Sid is thirty now. Aaron hasn’t had to worry about Sid’s virtue in a few years. He’s an adult, and even while Aaron and twenty three of his close friends still get a kick out of busting some poor guy’s chops, once in a while, they’re not really in the habit of handing out bits of friendly advice anymore.

That is until Evgeni Malkin.

See, the thing is, after all these years and the dozens of flings Sid has had, none of them has even come close to being someone Sidney would even consider settling down with. He’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, always has been, and while some of them have been rotten apples he took longer to leave than usual—and more often than not, _they_ would be the ones to leave because Aaron and his crew was having none of that shit—they’ve never worried that someone would break Sidney’s heart for real.

At least Aaron hasn’t, and that’s been the truly strange part, because Sidney is so very generous, gives so much of his time and money and influence when it’s asked of him and it would have been so very, very easy to take advantage of that. Of the kindness he wields so freely.

That Geno, then, could potentially be that person, the one Sidney never seems to have been looking for but has found in Geno anyway, years and years after they first met, is a betrayal Aaron can’t put into words.

Mostly because Geno is one of Aaron’s recruits; he’s always been gleeful about keeping sleazebags away from Sid, always been faithfully protecting him like a good big brother should be, only that Geno wasn’t looking at Sid and seeing a younger brother _at_ _all_.

When Sid calls to say he’s dating Geno now and he thinks it could really go somewhere, Aaron says, “What,” flatly, and calls up the gang.

“We need to go to Pittsburgh,” he tells them. “Also, we should wear all of Sid’s jerseys, it’ll be hilarious.”

Which everybody is onboard with, so they make a trip of it.

There’s a plan in there somewhere, to confront Geno in between the games they’re watching and the food they’re eating and drinks they’re drinking while checking out the sights of Pittsburgh.

Aaron would talk to him first, they’d agreed, followed by Sean and Matt and Justin and then the rest of them, and if Geno was still in it, if he was still sticking around after all their friendly advice, then maybe, _maybe_ , they could start thinking about him being a good match for Sid.

This is the plan. It’s not what happens.

Aaron gets about three sentence into his speech (twenty minutes long; he’s timed it before), when Geno says, “Uh huh,” and does what none of the guys have ever done before: he tells Sid.

 _Well_ _played_ , _Malkin_ , Aaron thinks, reluctantly impressed when Sid unleashes hell on them all for having sabotaged his relationships for years and years, and like fuck are they scaring Geno away because Sidney actually _likes_ him. Might even _love_ him, and oh hell. Malkin isn’t going anywhere, is he?

Aaron tries to explain that it wasn’t so much sabotaging they’ve been doing, as it was protecting, and look, Geno was in on it too—”Only cause I like you so much,” Geno cuts in smoothly. “Was jealous,” he continues dolefully, and Sidney melts like butter in a pan. Weak.

So anyway. Aaron is a groomsman at their wedding. It’s fine.


	138. Sid/Geno - Flirting, friends to lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tropdangereuse inquired: S/G, for 4, please.
> 
> #4: “I’m flirting with you.”

“I’m flirting with you,” Sid says in the middle of Perry’s (obviously made up) story about the blonde with the long legs and the amazing tits.

Flower chokes on his food, and Zhenya has to put his sandwich down on his plate. “What?” he asks, because Sid is looking at _him_ of all people _._

 _”_ I’m flirting with you,” Sid says again. “I’ve been flirting with you for a long time now, but you either seem not to have noticed or you’re ignoring me.”

Zhenya stares at him, because _what?_ ”I’m not ignore,” he says finally.

“Good.” Sid nods. He’s about to take a bite of his food when he pauses. “So now that you know, do you _want_ me to keep flirting with you?”

It’s clear that Sid is asking about more than flirting here, and Zhenya feels a little off kilter and a lot confused. He shares a quick ‘what the fuck?’ look with Flower before he says, “Okay, Sid. Can keep flirt.” He figures there is no harm in letting him. It might even be fun.

Sidney breaks into a wide smile. It’s such a huge contrast from the tight, polite one he puts on for the media and fans that get too handsy with him. “Good,” he says again, and Zhenya knows he’s made the right decision.

*

So, apparently, Sid has been flirting with him. For a long time too, if Sidney himself is to be believed.

Zhenya is puzzled. He just doesn’t see it.

Now that he knows what Sid is doing, he starts paying attention, looking for things that Sid does or say that would constitute flirting.

There is nothing. Nothing is changed now that Zhenya knows, and if it had been any other guy, Zhenya might think Sidney was pulling a prank on him. But that would be far crueller than Sidney is capable of, he thinks, and besides, while Sid doesn’t mind aiding others in their pranks, he rarely pulls one off himself.

Zhenya is not sure what to do here. Sidney flirting with him is so out of left field, and there is no precedent for Zhenya to draw from. The thing is, Sidney is _a lot_. He’s a quiet guy, but he’s very intense and very pretty and very skilled. He’s one of those people who draws people to him like it’s nothing; he seems larger than life, often, and it is very intimidating. He’s a lot.

This all boils down to Zhenya having _noticed_ him. Of course he has. He and everybody else.

Sidney is gorgeous and kind and superstitious and funny and so obstinate it drives Zhenya insane sometimes. Zhenya has always found him desirable, but he’s never let himself think too much about him, has never let himself truly _want_ him, because he’s always assumed that Sidney just didn’t have time for romance.

Sidney has a big heart. He gives so much of himself, to his friends and family, to teammates and fans, and all that’s left he pours into hockey. Beyond a few casual hookups, Zhenya has never known Sid to be serious with anyone. Hadn’t even thought it was something Sid wanted. Until now. Until Sid started flirting with _him_.

Except Zhenya doesn’t see it!

Sidney does not suddenly get more tactile, he doesn’t bring Zhenya gifts and he doesn’t lavish him with praise. In fact, he’s treating Zhenya exactly the same as he always has; Zhenya feels a little betrayed, as if Sidney has been doing some false advertising here. Zhenya was promised flirting, but there is no flirting of any kind as far as he can tell.

He’s a little upset about it, to be honest.

In the end, Zhenya seeks out Flower. He’s probably the one guy that knows Sidney better than Zhenya himself. He’s loathe to do it, because Flower is a smug son of a bitch, but Zhenya would like to get this show on the road, and Sidney seems perfectly content to go on with his not-flirting.

“Geno,” Flower says when Zhenya finds him by the breakfast bar in the Pens’ break room. He draws out the ‘e’ in Geno obnoxiously, and Zhenya only barely keeps from putting him in a headlock. He wants to be on Flower’s good side, after all.

“What you know?” he asks, cutting right to the chase. A direct approach is always the best course of action when it comes to dealing with Flower. He’ll only drag it out for his own entertainment otherwise. The bastard.

Flower smirks at him. “I’m assuming you’re talking about our esteemed captain?

Zhenya has to mentally pat his own back for not rolling his eyes at him. “Of course I’m mean Sid. Now tell me what you know. Please,” he grudgingly tags on.

Flower’s smirk widens. “Sid likes you,” he says. “He _likes_ like you,” he adds meaningfully, as if it makes all the difference. Zhenya despairs of the English language. It would be so much easier if everyone just spoke Russian, obviously the superior language by far.

“He’s been sweet on you for a while, as far as I can tell,” Flower continues. He pauses, finally losing his smirk and looking a little surprised as he says, “I think he wants to have your babies.”

Zhenya blinks at that. Flower, while providing what appears to be new information, has not been all that helpful. He shakes his head.

It’s time that Zhenya went straight to the source.

*

They have a rare day off, and Zhenya uses the opportunity to show up at Sid’s house unannounced.

“Sid!” he says when Sidney opens the door. Sid looks surprised to see him, but Zhenya is a man on a mission. He has no time for greetings. “You say you flirt with me, but I’m think you not. Why you say if you don’t do?”

“But I flirt with you all the time!” Sidney protests. He steps aside to let Zhenya in through the door. “Why would you think I don’t? I even told you about it.”

Zhenya quickly chucks off his shoes (house rules: no shoes inside) and follows after Sidney into the kitchen. He plants himself down by the kitchen table, watching as Sidney bustles around the kitchen, putting on a pot of tea and rooting around the cabinets for teacups.

“How you flirt?”

Sidney sighs, as if _Zhenya_ is the troublesome one here, and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. “I let you go out last.”

 _What_? Zhenya blinks. “What? What you mean?”

“When you came to Pittsburgh, you wanted to go out last onto the ice. I did too, but I wanted you to like me, so I let you go last.”

This is not all what Zhenya expected. “What else?” he asks, and watches, fascinated, when Sidney blushes.

“I let you touch me. All the time, I let you—” He breaks off, looking away from Zhenya’s curious gaze. “No one touches me as much as you do.” He rubs at his jaw, seeming a little sheepish when he says, “And I answer questions for you with the media sometimes, even though I know I shouldn’t. I laugh at your jokes too, and you’re really not that funny, you know. But you are, to me.”

Zhenya stares at him. “But is how it’s always been with us. It’s nothing new.”

“Yes,” Sidney agrees easily, and oh. _Oh_. Zhenya gets it now.

“You want to have my babies. Flower says so.”

Sidney looks startled at the non-sequitur, but Zhenya doesn’t give him a chance to respond. He rises from his seat, crossing the floor until he has Sidney crowded up against the counter, his arms at either side of him, boxing him in.

“You flirt with me always,” Zhenya says, and Sidney has. He can see that now. Since the beginning, Sidney has been flirting with him. It’s all been small, subtle things, but for Sidney, someone who is so rigid with his routines, they must have been huge, glaring acts of intent.

Zhenya is the idiot who never picked up on it.

“I’m kiss you now,” Zhenya tells him, and Sidney says, “Okay.”

Zhenya smiles softly. He leans down, pressing his mouth to Sidney’s in what has to be the most chaste kiss he’s ever had. He feels something loose slot into place in his chest.

“You should kiss me again,” Sidney mumbles against Zhenya’s lips, and Zhenya does. Again and again and again.

By the time they stop kissing, the tea has gone cold, and neither of them care.

They kiss some more.


	139. Sid/Geno, Geno/Other(s) - Date night, best friends, friends to lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> northisnotup inquired:2. Date. Night.

Date night does not start out as date night.

Actually, when he thinks about it, Zhenya can’t even remember who even started referring to it as such. He thinks it might be Max.

It was probably Max.

It had started out as nothing, really, back when Zhenya was still new to Pittsburgh and spoke all of ten words in English. It had taken about three weeks of Zhenya’s moping and wilful alienation from the rest of his teammates before Seryozha grew sick of him and suggested he hang out with Sidney for an evening. Anything to get him out of the house for something non-hockey related.

Zhenya hadn’t understood then why anyone would go to Sidney for anything non-hockey, but Seryozha had appealed to Sidney’s sense of duty and leadership and that had been that, apparently.

Sidney cornered Zhenya after practice the next day; he was told in no uncertain terms that he was to be ready for an evening out the coming Friday.

“Dress casual,” he’d said. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

Zhenya remembers thinking how much it was going to suck, that he’d just suffer through a silent evening with Sid being earnest and awkward to make Seryozha happy and then he could go back to sulking and missing home and his family.

He’d expected Sidney to take him someplace lame, like the bowling alley, maybe, or the steak place downtown he frequented often enough that Yinzers hardly bothered him there anymore.

Sidney hadn’t done any of that, though. He showed up at the Gonchars’ five minutes to six, rolled his eyes hard at Zhenya’s obvious reluctance and socked him in the arm when Zhenya pointed out how dumb it made him look.

“Shut up!” he’d said, so petulant and so _Sidney_ that Zhenya hadn’t been able to hold back his grin.

“Much stupid,” he remembers saying, but Sidney had grinned back at him, and Zhenya had thought maybe an evening out wouldn’t suck so much after all.

Being in Pittsburgh had been hard back then, not understanding English had been hard, but Sidney, being around Sidney, had always been easy. Always will be, he suspects.

Zhenya just forgets sometimes, but he shouldn’t, because what he hadn’t known then but is so sure of now, is that Sidney understands him like no one else does.

Which is why it made perfect sense that instead of taking him out bowling or to the steak place, Sidney brought him home, smiling a little shyly when he’d explained that Mario and Nathalie would be out that evening and that Sidney would be watching the kids.

Zhenya spent that Friday playing board games and watching the Lion King and making pizza and it was the most relaxed he’d been for a long time, it felt like.

So he hadn’t thought much of it when four Fridays later, Sidney called him up and Zhenya had spent an evening crushing Sid at Mario Kart and letting the stress and pressure of hockey fade for just a little bit.

He hadn’t thought much of it when he ended up hanging out with Sidney four Fridays after _that_ , until Zhenya had spent the first Friday of every month with Sidney for five months straight, and the first Friday of the _sixth_ month, in April, was the day after Ottawa knocked them out of the playoffs and Sidney _still_ showed up at the Gonchars’ at 6pm like he always did.

He’d looked as miserable as Zhenya had felt – and Zhenya is sometimes slow on the uptake, but this is Sidney and he should have known, even then.

So it’s a thing they do, the first Friday of every month as long as the season permits it, until it’s become such an important feature of their friendship and someone (Max) along the way started to call it date night. Zhenya doesn’t even think about it. It’s just something that is; a standing date they never cancel for anything, not even when Sid was out with concussion and Zhenya has been dumped four times already because, “I refuse to be second to him, Zhenya. He already gets the hockey part of you, but he doesn’t get _this_ part.”

Zhenya tries to explain that it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just one Friday a month, but the thing is, he already knows it’s not.

So Zhenya gets dumped a lot because his actual dates are always scheduled around date nights with Sidney, and it’s been like this for years. It’s been fine, it’s been enough, until one Friday, it’s not.

They’ve spent a quiet evening at Sid’s, and it’s already nearing the time when Zhenya usually leaves, but he is in no hurry, and it’s not like Sidney is rushing him out the door.

Instead, he is content to lounge back in his chair as Sidney putters around the kitchen, tidying up after them.

Sidney can’t cook for shit; Zhenya always does the cooking and Sid does the dishes, and never gracefully.

He’ll grumble and send Zhenya increasingly sour looks, pouting and commenting, “You could help, you know,” and then Zhenya will say, “Like you help cook?” and grin as Sidney’s pout grows, because the last time Sid helped he’d burnt water and Zhenya is still not sure how he managed it, but it was hilarious.

This time though, when Zhenya teases him, he doesn’t pout like he usually does. Instead, he says, “What if I gave you something in return?”

Zhenya blinks, straightening in his seat and looking at Sidney intently. “Like what?” he demands, because this is more off script than Sidney ever goes, and he’s blushing, biting his lip and looking at Zhenya like–

“A kiss.”

Zhenya sucks in a startled breath. He moves to his feet, slow and deliberate as he approaches Sid.

“What if I’m want more than one kiss?”

“Then I’ll give you all the kisses you want.”

Zhenya takes hold of Sidney’s hips, testing when he tugs at him. Sidney goes.

He leans close, nosing at Sidney’s neck, giddy with the knowledge that Sid is letting him. “Might want kiss all time. Every day, maybe.”

Sidney smiles at him, soft and warm. His eyes crinkle with it. “That’s okay,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

(Zhenya helps with the dishes.)


	140. Sid/Geno - Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Hazel, if you're still taking prompts, can you do a happy Sid/Geno cuddle fic?

The cuddling starts…well. Zhenya is not quite sure, to be honest. He can’t remember a particular event or a special date when it first started, just that it’s been years now, and sometimes Sidney needs someone to hold him tight, to whisper that he’s okay, everything is _just fine, you gonna be fine, Sid_ , _I’m here, it’s okay–_

Sid just needs someone to take him out of his own head sometimes, to block out the noise around him and make him feel safe.

That someone has been Zhenya for a long time. Through good times and bad, through ups and downs, people moving in and out of their lives, and always, _always_ , there is Sid and there is Zhenya and there is the two of them.

Sid doesn’t trust anyone else the way he trusts Zhenya. 

Zhenya knows this, values the trust and loyalty Sidney has placed in him more than almost anything.

And also, he really _really_ likes the cuddling.

(Zhenya is a tactile guy. Everyone knows this.)

“Again? Really?”

Zhenya opens his eyes drowsily, blinking to clear his vision before noticing Flower. He looks amused.

“Go away, Flower. No cuddles for you.”

“Yes, I can see that. You’re too busy with your octopus here. Mon Dieu, how do you even breathe with him clinging to you like that?”

Zhenya looks down to where Sidney’s head rests on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around Zhenya’s torso. He’s out for the count, snoring gently. His hair is soft and fluffy, a few dark strands curling over his forehead. It’s getting long. When Sidney sleeps like this, nothing short of full on turbulence is going to wake him.

Zhenya lifts a hand and strokes Sid’s hair, smiling when Sidney smacks his lips and murmurs, “Skate, skate.”

He glances up at Flower, smile widening when he sees his fond grin.

“Go five-hole, Sid,” Flower says, and in his sleep, Sidney wrinkles his nose. “No, he’s weak on his glove side, gotta go top shelf.”

Zhenya laughs. He pulls Sid closer to him. “Should give me puck. I score for you.”

“Okay,” Sidney murmurs, and promptly lets out a loud snore.

Flower shakes his head. “I don’t get why he doesn’t just sit next to you when he ends up here every time. I’m getting sick of waking up to find he’s gone. He always brings the chocolate. Such a selfish captain, never shares.”

“You can’t eat chocolate,” Tanger quips as he walks up the aisle. “How else will you maintain your girlish figure?”

“Hey!”

Zhenya grins as Flower takes off after Tanger, following him up the plane and leaving Sid and Zhenya to it.

He looks back down at Sid, brows furrowing in worry when he sees the frown on Sidney’s face. His jaw is clenched, and when Zhenya concentrates, he can hear Sidney gritting his teeth over the sound of the airplane.

He must be having another bad dream.

“I’m here, Sid. It’s okay,” Zhenya says. He presses a kiss to the top of Sid’s head. “Just a dream, not real.” He keeps it up until Sidney’s frown finally eases, his jaw going slack as he burrows his head more firmly into Zhenya’s chest.

Zhenya hums, satisfied. “That’s it, Sid,” he says. “You safe now. I’m protect you.”

Sidney sighs in his sleep, a soft little exhale. “Geno,” he mumbles, and that, Zhenya sits up a little straighter at that.

Over the course of the ten years they’ve known each other, Sidney has said his name a thousand different ways, in a thousand different places and situations.

Never once has Zhenya heard Sid say his name like this before. As if “Geno” could be followed by “I love you.”

Zhenya stares at Sidney, cataloguing how he looks and burning the image into his mind. He doesn’t ever want to forget this moment. He doesn’t ever want to forget the first time he looked at Sid and thought, _You love me, really love. And I love you too._

Sidney lets out another loud snore, blissfully unaware of Zhenya’s musings. Zhenya laughs and shakes his head, feeling so much love for this ridiculous man. How has he managed to go ten years without realising how deeply and unequivocally in love he is with Sidney Crosby?

Zhenya’s not sure. But he is sure that he’s not going to waste another ten years. Not even another day.

He hugs Sidney closer to him and presses another kiss to his head before settling in and closing his eyes.

They still have a while before their plane lands. Zhenya can wait until then.

But no longer.


	141. Sid/Geno - Accidentally engaged (WIP)

Omg, drunk!Geno who accidentally proposes to Sid and then forgets about it. Surprised but happy!Sid who says yes and is strangely all onboard even if all Sid and Geno have ever been is very good friends. Panicking!Geno who can’t take back the proposal because Sid is just so delighted by it and also Geno isn’t getting any younger and Sidney is beautiful and lovely and his best friend and it’s not as if Geno isn’t attracted to him because he’s Sid and everyone is. And maybe Geno loves him just a little bit – or a lot – and look at that, they’ve chosen a venue and cake and had an engagement party and putting down a payment on that house down the street from Mario’s home that is newly for sale and Sid has had his eye on since he was _eighteen_ and Geno is in too deep now; he is getting married, accidentally.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

Oh my God hazel!!! Your 5am thoughts make my 6am self all squealy.I need to sleep hazel why would you do this?!?! But do tell,is Sid all blushy and adorable while they're planning this wedding??

* * *

He is. And he’s just so fucking _delighted_. Like, no one thought Sid was into any of this stuff, but he has opinions about napkins and flowers and colour accents, and he’s just so earnest about it and beaming and giving Geno all of these truly distracting kisses throughout the day, which is just so unfair and terrible in the way that it’s the best thing ever and Geno wants so much more.

(Sid must never find out that Geno only accidentally proposed)

* * *

Sid isn’t one for romantic gestures, really, but Geno lives for romance (he won’t even try to deny it; they’ve all watched Geno sob his heart out to Steele Magnolias too many times for him to fool anyone), so Sid decides to romance his new fiancé to the best of his abilities.

(This is in the accidental proposal verse now.)

Sidney emails every person that matters to Geno, that was important to him at some point in his life (and that he’s still on good terms with), and though he needs some translating help from Gonch and Ovi most of the time, Sidney receives dozens of emails from people all over, all writing lovely things about Geno and how he has impacted their lives.

Sidney carefully prints out all the messages, cuts them into painfully perfect squares, and glues them onto brightly coloured cards until his kitchen looks as if an arts and crafts store exploded in there.

It’s for their engagement party, a surprise for Geno – mostly because Sidney thinks he’s lovely and he wants to do something nice for him, but also because Geno likes to tease Sid about how predictable he is and how he hasn’t managed to surprise Geno in _years_. Not since the glow stick incident of ‘08.

Sidney has it all planned out. He’s ordered 871 balloons in Penguins colours (of course) and has attached the cards to some of the balloon strings. When it comes time to decorate the restaurant they’ve booked for their engagement party, Sidney makes sure Geno is busy elsewhere as he directs the staff on how to arrange the balloons around the room just so.

It is absolutely worth the hours he’d spent cutting and pasting for the look on Geno’s face when he walks into the restaurant and sees it all. Even better when he doesn’t even get through three messages before he’s sobbing like a baby.

Sidney is feeling justifiably smug. It’s not that he’s pleased that he made his fiancé cry…but he’s pleased that he made his fiancé cry.


	142. Sid/Geno - Female!Sid, first woman in the NHL, getting together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I have a very detailed headcanon of female, first-girl-in-the-NHL Sid not allowing herself any distractions (relationships) (with Geno) since she's The First and has to set a Good Example and Focus on Her Career but she'll pine for Geno anyway and anyway she gets interviewed for like Cosmo or something, "What do you look for in a man?" and she'll go "Kind eyes. Soft hands," and no one has the heart to chirp her for her transparency. also in this headcanon (Sid as The First) after her third Cup and second Conn Smythe she feels like she might finally have proven herself and can allow herself to be distracted.

oMG, Anon, okay, but like. It’s been years and years of Sidney looking at Geno from afar, looks from beneath lowered lashes and lips chewed to the point of breaking to keep from saying something, to keep her mouth from opening and let slip the plea she so badly wants to.

_Please_ , she thinks sometimes. _Please look at me, please want me the way I want you. Please, can’t I have this?_

She’s almost forgotten what it feels like to have desire course through her veins in a way she doesn’t associate with hockey, or with proving herself–to show everyone that she is just as good as the guys. Better, even.

She’s wanted Geno for so long and has denied herself equally as long that she doesn’t recognise the want for what it is anymore. She feels so much, spilling out of her, breaking all the doors she’s had locked so tight for so long.

Geno places his hands at her hips, moves her casually to the side the way he’s done a hundred times before and it’s all Sidney can do to keep breathing, because there’s fire trailing up from her hip to her waist, following the line of Geno’s hand sliding up her side.

It’s deliberate. Geno always has been. He’s been waiting for a long time, waiting, patient, for when Sidney would be ready.

She is now. Three Cups and eleven years later. She’s proved herself enough. She can take time for herself now, for Geno. For them.

“Stay,” she breathes out when Geno makes to move past her, down the aisle to where Phil is holding court with the Cup at the back of the plane. Flower is there, Tanger, Kuni; they’re laughing and smiling and it will probably be the last time they’ll all be together like that–in the sky, in the middle of nowhere. Time suspended between the clouds. “Stay with me,” she says. _Always_ , is left unspoken.

Geno looks at her, considering. He hums, his hands settling more firmly at her waist, drawing her in until she’s flushed against him. She’s sure her teammates are noticing, but no one comments. It’s all business as usual.

No one is surprised, she realises.

“Ready now?” Geno asks her, and Sidney is having trouble focusing on anything but the feel of Geno’s thumb rubbing circles into her skin, just below the hem of her blouse. It’s tugged loose from her dress pants. Sidney hadn’t even noticed. “Can’t take back if say yes. I’m keep you, forever.”

Sidney’s cheeks bloom a crimson red at the possessive words, at the deliberate honesty in them. She hadn’t thought she’d like that, is completely unprepared for how turned on she is.

“I’ll keep you too,” she says, and Geno laughs.

He bends to nose at her hair, busses a kiss at her temple, and when he whispers into her ear, it’s a truth she’s known for years but hasn’t allowed herself to acknowledge.

“Don’t need keep me. Already yours,” he says, and, well.

(Later, Sidney will claim she’s the one who kissed him, but the truth is she doesn’t remember and it doesn’t matter, because she gets all the kisses she wants and more.)


	143. Sid/Geno - Getting married, established relationship

As the saying goes, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. 

Zhenya takes that to mean as _right before_ the ceremony, on the actual wedding day, but Sid frowns worriedly—because he’s a superstitious fool no matter what he claims—and says, “Better make it a week, just to be safe,” before he finishes with, “Fuck you, you fucker. I’m not the bride. _You_ can be the bride.”

Zhenya will happily be the bride if it means he can finally marry Sid.

He has been proposing to him for years; Zhenya was beginning to think he was never going to get a yes, resigned to the _It’s not the right time_ replies Sid has been feeding him since that first time—the first of seven.

So when Sid went out and bought a ring—because he knew Zhenya would love it—and went down on one knee to pop the question—because Sid knew he would love that too—Zhenya wasted no time saying yes, ugly sobbing and pulling Sid up for a wet, messy kiss before running off to brag about his ring to any and all (un)willing to listen.

(Pascal has it on film.)

After a week of not having seen his fiance before the big day, Zhenya is, frankly, done with the wait and the nervous anticipation/unabashed glee that has been fluttering low in his stomach for days. It’s barely eight in the morning, and they’re not meant to walk down the aisle for another five hours, but Zhenya wants to see his fiancé, dammit. He wants to see him now. 

The French-Canadians have gleefully appointed themselves as Sid’s keepers for the duration, moving him from place to place and running interference whenever Zhenya, and sometimes Sid, have tried to sneak around their backs to see the other. Getting around them without being seen proves to be tricky, but Zhenya is nothing if not determined, and he has plenty of motivation.

He also takes great pleasure in outwitting Pascal and Flower. Tricky assholes, both of them.

When he finally reaches Sid’s bedroom—at the Lemiuexs’ this time, as if Zhenya wouldn’t think to look there. Idiots—Zhenya spends a total of five seconds listening for any interlopers, cautiously looking around the hall in case someone’s there. Deciding the coast is clear, he makes his way inside.

He wastes no time at all in climbing onto the bed, curling up around Sid’s still sleeping form.

“Geno?” Sid asks, his voice a little raw and groggy.

Maybe not so asleep after all, then.

Zhenya hums contentedly. He nuzzles his face against the back of Sid’s neck, breathing in deep.

A week without Sid is a week too long. Never again.

“Geno!” Sid sounds a lot more alert this time. He turns in his arms, blinking at Zhenya in surprise. He gasps suddenly, lurching backwards to get away from Zhenya and falling off the bed in the process.

Zhenya bursts out laughing.

“Shut up!” Sid barks at him. He’s still down on the floor, hidden from Zhenya’s sight. “It’s not funny, Geno. Stop laughing! What are you even doing here? You know we’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck!”

Zhenya’s laugh tapers off slowly, a wide grin still on his face as he shifts to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He can hear the pout in Sid’s voice.

“Missed you,” he says.

Sid goes quiet at that. There’s a few seconds of silence before Zhenya hears him sigh.

He turns his head just in time to see Sid climb back onto the bed, crawling over Zhenya before he goes boneless, making Zhenya grunt as he takes his weight when Sid collapses on top of him.

“Missed you too,” Sid mumbles, and Zhenya breaks into another grin at the confession.

He wraps his arms around Sid, holding him tight. “Get married today.”

“Yeah.” Sid angles his head, pressing a kiss to Zhenya’s neck. “Married, Geno,” he breathes out, reverent.

In what is probably less than four hours from now, they’re going to dress up in their tuxes and stand in a church in front of God and all of their friends and families, saying their _I do’s_ in the big white wedding of Zhenya’s dreams.

(And Sid’s too, though he won’t admit to it.)

It’s going to be amazing. It’s going to be everything Zhenya has wanted for years.

“You’re gonna be my husband, G,” Sid says. He sounds very pleased about that. Zhenya certainly is.

He lifts one hand to tangle in Sid’s hair, tugging gently until Sid lifts his head enough for Zhenya to give him a deep, filthy kiss—a taste of what is to come later, after their vows are given and rings are exchanged, and Zhenya can abscond with his spouse for a well-deserved wedding night honeymoon.

They pull back, and Zhenya lets his hand fall from Sid’s hair to his mouth, pressing his thumb against his plump bottom lip.

“That make you my wife, да?”

He yelps when Sid pinches his side in punishment, grappling with his sneaky hands until Zhenya manages to catch them with his own, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently. He smiles when he feels their engagement rings pressing together where their wedding bands will soon rest instead.

“Sorry, sorry!” he says, not very sincerely, but Sid doesn’t put up much of a fight, just narrowing his eyes in warning before resting his head back on Zhenya’s chest.

“You’re the wife,” Sid mumbles into his shirt, because he’s incapable of not getting in the last word.

Zhenya just hums. He doesn’t mind the term, and he knows Sid doesn’t either despite his posturing. The important part is that they have each other, and will continue to have each other for the rest of their lives.

(Also, the look on Sidney’s face when the officiant turns to Zhenya and says, “You may now kiss the bride!” is hilarious. Absolutely worth the hundred he’d slipped into her hand before the ceremony began.

Pascal has that on film as well.)


	144. Sid/Geno - team as family, secret relationship, team building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> infinitely-prolonged replied:
> 
> “weeding ceremony” is probably both a typo and a wonderful crack fic prompt

OMFG I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE!!!

ok, ok, so like, the Weeding Ceremony™ is exactly what it sounds like. Rusty always finds it hysterical, because none of the rookies ever believe them when they say, “No really, every year, Sidney Crosby hosts a Weeding Ceremony™ on Geno’s behalf. It’s, like, tradition.”

In truth, Rusty isn’t entirely sure why Sid feels the need to host the silly event every year, but they’re all willing to do a lot of weird shit in the name of team bonding, and it seems to work for Sid and Geno and their weird not-relationship.

(Rusty knows about their friends-with-benefits arrangement – there is not a player on the team who hasn’t accidentally stumbled over them at one point or another – but Sid and Geno insist on keeping up the pretence of being nothing more than friends, and Flower and Duper had a long and complicated explanation for why this was and why they should all leave them to it or they’d have to deal with Tanger. Tanger, standing off to the side, smiling crookedly with his arms crossed over his chest, had looked particularly wild around the eyes, and Rusty had resolved to never, _ever,_ confront Sid and Geno about their – so, so weird – not-relationship.)

So anyway, Geno’s mansion comes with an enormous yard and a beautiful garden that he usually has a staff maintaining throughout the season. But from August to October, the staff is on an annual two-month break.

Sid tells them this is because James Neal had once declared that Geno would be useless at gardening because they all know he lets his potted plants die unless someone (Sid) reminds him to water them, and Geno had taken such offence at this outrageous claim he’d determined to tend to his own gardens once he returned from Russia one summer.

Geno claims he managed just fine on his own for about a month, but Kuni once spilled the beans and revealed that he’d bought all of the tools and then had immediately called Sid for help because he had no idea where to start (Sid, who’d been playing street hockey with the Kunitz kids at the time, had, predictably, left to deal with Geno’s ineptitude.)

With Sid came Duper and Flower – always up for watching the humiliation of someone else – and then Tanger, and then it seemed like the logical thing to do would be to engage the rest of the team as well – “For team bonding,” Sid said, always with a straight face, and well, they’re all incredibly stupid when it comes to their captain, so that’s what they do every year, without fail, before the season starts: weeding Geno’s massive gardens.

This is Rusty’s third year. He’s getting pretty handy at it, but he hasn’t quite worked out the technique of one Olli Maatta, and Shultzy is the only one who can sucker Olli into telling him his secrets anyway, so Rusty and the rest of them do their best, or in Conor and Jake’s case, helplessly try to differentiate between herbs and weeds.

(They’re horrifically bad at it, and Rusty and Junior laugh and laugh while Matty takes pity on them and directs them to the side of the gardens where there’s actual flowers with coloured petals and even Conor and Jake can tell the difference between a rose and crabgrass weed.)

At the end of the day, Sid declares the Weeding Ceremony™ a huge success, and happily invites everyone to follow him the few houses down the street to his own home, so they can segue into their annual BBQ at Sid’s place™ because he’s the only one with a grill that is massive enough for them all, and besides, his pool is the actual best.

(Somehow, no one comments on the fact that even though it’s his house, Sid is the last one to show up, Geno just two steps behind, a huge grin on his face and his hair an absolute mess. Neither does anyone mention the obvious hickeys on Sid’s neck that hadn’t been there this morning, but then again, they never do.)


	145. Sid/Geno + Flower - Lockout, established relationship, long-distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chaosneutral inquired: "If you’re taking prompts : Sidney tried not to imagine bloody bodies strewn on ice as he hesitantly asked Flower, ‘An all-goalie team?’"
> 
> I had planned on this being total crack, but then it turned into very light fluffy angst instead. It is set to sometime during the lockout, and contains established s/g relationship.

“An all-goalie team?”

“An all-goalie team,” Flower agreed, sounding just as awed now as he had the first time he told Sid about it. “Well, two, if you want to get technical. We need someone to play against, after all.”

Sidney shuddered at the prospect. Just picturing twelve goalies out on the ice at the same time made him queasy. How would it even work? Would they rotate the actual goaltending?

“And you’ll all be wearing your goalie gear?” he asked haltingly, blanching slightly at the manic grin on Flower’s face.

“ _All_ of us.”

“Okay, but why do you need me? I’m not a goalie.”

Flower grumbled under his breath in French for a moment. “We’re missing a guy. Bryzgalov pulled out at the last second, the crazy bastard. We figured we’d just play one man short, but then the Finns started getting really weird about it, so I volunteered you to keep the numbers even.” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “It’s a good thing I did too,” he continued, “Miller was being coy about joining, but when he heard you were suiting up he was all in. Said he’d pay good money to get a chance to score on you.”

Sidney groaned. Ryan Miller would probably forever hold a grudge against him.

“You didn’t even talk to me first! You just signed me up. I had plans, Flower. _Good_ plans!”

“Oh, please,” Flower scoffed. “You were going to Russia for what would essentially have been an international booty call. Don’t pretend it was something else.”

“It was not!” Sidney said. “I was just going to visit. Geno’s been inviting me forever, you know, and now with the stupid lockout I finally have the time.” Shit. He was going to have to tell Geno he couldn’t make it now. God, long distance relationships sucked. The _lockout_ sucked.

Finally, Flower looked a little guilty. “Look, I’m sorry about that, okay? I really am. It sucks that you guys don’t get to be together right now, but Sid! This is for a good cause. All the proceeds will go to helping disadvantaged kids, and your name is going to help bring in the big crowd. You know it is.”

And really, how was Sidney supposed to say no to that? “Fine, I’ll do it. But I get to be on whichever team Pricey’s not. I’ve seen him skate, and it is ugly.”

Flower snickered. “Deal!” he said, and didn’t leave before he had Sidney’s assurances that yes, he would show up in Quebec in time for the charity event, he would suit up to play goalie, and _yes, Flower, I’ll put on a fucking smile. Jesus_.

It wasn’t that Sidney was against charity work or anything like that. Far from it, he reflected once Flower had gone. He loved that he could use his fame for a good cause. It was just, he’d been so sick of the lockout dragging on and being away from Geno for so long. He was finally getting a chance to see him after so many months, and now he had to postpone it. Again.

Something always seemed to come up every time he decided now was the time to travel. If it wasn’t charity work or something promotional, it was NHLPA negotiations or some other League business–Sidney was just sick of it all. He missed Geno. Missed being close to him.

He sighed, pulling out his phone and dialling Geno’s number from memory.

Geno answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, sugarplum.”

“Oh, God. That’s just awful.” He giggled, that honking laugh everyone loved to chirp him for. “Have you been talking with Ovi again?”

Geno delighted in using the most outrages American pet names he could think of, and Ovi was a dirty, dirty enabler. Alex had once dragged them out for drinks in Washington, and he and Geno had spent the entire night throwing a number of truly horrific endearments Sidney’s way, trying to outdo the other.

“What?” Geno protested. “I’m like sugarplum. Is best name for you.”

Sidney’s laugh tapered off until he was smiling softly, feeling something settle inside of him just at the sound of Geno’s voice. “Hey, so, I’m doing this charity thing with Flower next week.”

“Sid! Supposed to come here next week, spend time with me.”

Sidney winced. “I know, baby, and I really wanted to, you have to know that, but it’s charity. I couldn’t say no.”

He heard Geno sigh over the phone, and while he was obviously annoyed, Sidney knew he understood. “Don’t like being away from you,” Geno said. “Spent all summer apart, and then come to Pittsburgh for only couple of weeks before go back to Russia. No time together at all.”

“Yeah,” Sidney said. “It sucks.”

They were silent for a moment, just listening to each other breathe over the line before Geno asked, “What charity? What you do?”

“Oh!” Sidney brightened, getting a little excited despite himself. “It’s a charity game, and all the money will go to kids who really need it. I’m gonna be a goalie! I guess it’s an all-goalie game.”

There was a stunned silence before Geno burst into laughter. “Sid! You gonna be goalie? Finally, you get your dream!”

Sidney grinned. “I guess I will.”

“Wait,” Geno said when he’d calmed down some. “What you mean all-goalie game? How that work? Only goalies on ice? Who score?”

“That’s what I said!” Sidney exclaimed. “I don’t even know. I guess I’ll find out.”

Geno hummed. “Guess you will.”

They chatted about other things for a while, Sidney tightening his hold on the phone and feeling so jealous as he listened to Geno talk about his new teammates and getting to skate and play hockey and Sidney would just really like for him to come home and the stupid, _stupid_ lockout to end.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

“Sid.” Geno’s voice sounded strangled and tinny over the line, and Sidney probably wasn’t being fair at all, but he missed him so very much. This was the longest they had spent apart since getting together two years ago.

“Will be together soon, hot lips.”

Sidney gasped. “Did you just–?” He laughed loudly, his body shaking with the force of his giggles. “Hot lips! That’s the best one yet!”

“No?” Geno asked, and Sid could hear the grin in his voice. “You don’t like? How about honey buns? Pudding pie? Mr. Muscleman?”

“Stop it! That’s horrible!”

Geno hummed again. Sidney smiled at the sound; he sounded happy.

“What about sweetheart?” Geno asked. “Or love of my life?”

“ _Geno_.” That was–Geno couldn’t just _say_ stuff like that.

“I’m miss you too, Sid. Miss you most.” Geno breathed in deep. “I’m promise, we see each other soon. We make it happen,” he said.

“Yeah,” Sidney agreed, and wondered just when that would be. 

It wouldn’t be next week, but soon, he hoped.


	146. Sid/Geno - Secretly married, marriage of convenience, penguins ensemble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tropdangereuse inquired:“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“No,” Tanger says slowly, “no, I don’t think so.”

Sidney casts a guilty look at Geno, but he only shrugs.

“Know we couldn’t keep secret always,” he says, and continues eating, seemingly unconcerned that Sidney had just announced their marriage to the rest of the team.

“But you’re not even together!” Duper exclaims. He points accusingly at Sidney. “I would know if you were seeing someone.”

Sidney bites his lip. “It’s complicated?” he offers weakly, and is met with looks of disbelief. “We’re just, you know, married.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“When did this even happen?” Flower demands. “And why the hell wasn’t I there?”

To be fair, no one they knew had actually been at their wedding, and Sidney has long since forgotten the names of the couple they’d gotten to serve as witnesses–he’s never managed to decode the signatures on the wedding certificate Geno’s got stuffed in a drawer somewhere. He doesn’t think Flower will appreciate that though. Sidney once swore that Flower could be his best man when he got married. He’d been drunk at the time, but he’d still promised.

Geno looks up at Sidney, “Almost seven years ago?” he asks, and Sid rolls his eyes.

“Eight,” he corrects.

Geno never forgets their anniversary. Every year, he sends Sidney a huge bouquet of red roses. He thinks he’s hilarious like that–he’s not, but Sidney forgives him, because he also makes sure to include a bar or two of European chocolate for Sidney’s not so secret candy stash.

Despite that, though, Geno can never recall how long they’ve been married. Always one year short.

“Eight years!” Beau stares at them with wide, shocked eyes, and the rest of the table has fallen into stunned silence.

Sidney tilts his head. They’re usually more boisterous during team dinners, but he supposes he can excuse his teammates their dumbfounded silence under the circumstances.

“That’s like way longer than I’ve known you!” Beau pauses for a beat. “That’s since _before_ you won the _Cup_!”

Next to Beau, Paulie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he says. “I think you better start from the beginning. How exactly did this happen?”

Sid and Geno share a look, Geno breaking out into a fond grin as their eyes meet.

“Get drunk,” he tells them. “In Vegas. Very cliché.”

Sidney grins back at him. It really had been.

He turns to look at the rest of the table. “It was after the NHL Awards,” he tells them. “In 2007. We both picked up awards that year, and we went out to celebrate after. Ovi was there at the beginning, I think.” He frowns. He really is a little fuzzy on the details.

“Get drunk. Very, very drunk.”

Sidney holds back a giggle at Geno’s words. They’d been blasted, truly. Not romantic at all, except Sidney has never remembered that night with anything but nostalgia and a happy sort of buzz he’s spent nearly eight years carefully not examining too closely.

Paulie stares at them. “Okay, but why stay married? Why haven’t you gotten a divorce?”

And see, that’s the thing. They’ve talked about it, of course they have. There was the initial panic after they woke up the next day, and then there were months of hushed conversations with lawyers and family and agents, trying to get their marriage annulled without anyone finding out.

In the end, a judge had denied their petition for an annulment–something about teenagers not being exempt from the responsibilities and consequences of their actions– _If you want to end something so binding and sacred as marriage, you’re damn well going to have to get a divorce._

He’d been strangely foul-mouthed for such a God-fearing man.

“I guess we just never got around to it,” Sidney says with a shrug.

Duper gapes at him. “You never got around to it?” He looks between them, eyes narrowing on where Geno has an arm stretched out on the back of Sid’s chair. Not at all unusual, but it must look different now that they all know.

“Well, we did try once,” he admits, and Geno nods, looking at Sid warmly as he says, “Didn’t work, so we stay married.”

They’re smiling stupidly at each other, only looking away when Kuni, who’s been silent this far, clears his throat.

“So you, what, have an ope–”

He cuts off abruptly as Scuds, of all people, elbows him hard in the side. He glares briefly at the rest of the guys before he turns to look at Sid and Geno with serious eyes. “And are you guys happy? This works for you?”

Sidney shares another look with Geno, face softening at the warmth and love he sees looking back at him.

For eight years, Sid and Geno have been sometimes together, sometimes not, and all that time they’ve been bound by marriage. Lately, they’ve been more together than not. In fact, it’s been a while since they have been anything but.

Geno leans in towards him, pausing when he’s only inches away. He lifts a hand to Sidney’s cheek, cupping his face gently before he closes the distance between them, kissing him in front of all of their friends.

Sid closes his eyes for the kiss, and when they break apart, Sidney says, “Yes, very happy,” and watches the slight unclenching of Geno’s jaw, only noticeable to himself, he’s sure.

They haven’t really talked about this, not properly anyway, but Geno’s relieved–Sidney can tell he’s relieved.

“Yes,” Geno agrees, staring intently at Sidney. “Most happy.”

Sidney leans in for another kiss, just because he can.

“Good. Congratulations,” Scuds says, and when Sidney turns to look at him, he’s smiling at them warmly.

“So, fuckers. You owe me a bachelor party.”

Sidney laughs, feels Geno pressing his face into Sid’s neck, hiding his smile against his skin. “Okay, Flower. You can throw us a bachelor party.”

Which, incidentally, is how the rest of the world finds out they’re married.

* * *

Flower is absolutely pissed that Sid got married and just never told him. Not once, in eight years, did Sidney even so much as _hint_ that he was fucking _married!_ So when Mrs. Crosby starts making noise about a second wedding the closer they get to their ten-year anniversary– _Ten, Geno! Jesus, you’d think you would remember that one!–_ Flower is all over that shit.

“I think it’s a good idea,” he tells Sidney, feigning casual disinterest as he watches Estelle apply lipstick to Sid’s lips.

They look obscene.

Sidney waits patiently until Estelle deems his lips the perfect shade of pink before he says, “We don’t need to renew our vows. Geno loves me, and I love him. I don’t need a wedding to know that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s your tenth anniversary. That’s kind of a big deal. And just think about how happy you’ll make your mothers. And Ovi. You know he doesn’t remember the actual wedding. He told me once it’s the only time he’s ever regretted getting drunk.”

Sidney grins. “I really do wonder what happened to him that night. I’m pretty sure he was only there in the beginning. Not sure where he ended up after.”

“Uncle Sidney! Close your eyes. Need eyeshadow now.”

Flower holds back his laugh as Sidney dutifully closes his eyes, not even flinching when Estelle forcefully strokes across his lids with her little makeup brush.

He picks up his phone, entering the camera app and angling the phone just so before he snaps a picture. He’ll have it printed and framed.

“Anyway,” he continues. “Geno wouldn’t mind, you know. He loves weddings. And we’ll help. You won’t have to stress about it at all.”

Sidney pries open his left eye, managing to look so dubious that Flower honestly feels a little impressed. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna let you guys just plan out my wedding without my input.”

And really, Flower already knew that. He just needed Sid to acknowledge there would be a wedding. Truth is, Flower isn’t above having to force him. He’d just prefer his cooperation, is all.

Either way, this wedding _will_ happen.

* * *

Sidney isn’t sure how Ovi finds out about the wedding (which he still hasn’t agreed to, Flower. _Jesus_ ), but he’s not sure it matters, not when Ovi shows up unexpectedly and demands to do the officiating.

“No,” Sidney says bluntly. He swipes his sweaty hair away from his brows, taking a swig of his Gatorade and thinking his hair is getting too long. He should get a haircut.

(He won’t. Geno likes it long.)

“Rude!” Ovi says and purses his lips into a ridiculous pout. “I’m your best friend! I should have big part in wedding!”

Sidney snorts. “You’re not my best friend,” he says, but it’s not unkind and he can’t quite hide his smile.

Ovi sees it and pounces. He trails after Sidney as he makes his way off the ice, following him to the dressing room. He takes a seat next to Sid’s stall, grinning that wide infamous gap-toothed smile of his when Beau eyes him warily.

“Why is Ovechkin in our locker room?” Sidney can hear Beau whisper to Kuni, who shrugs carelessly, probably knowing better than to get involved with anything concerning Ovi. There is always only a 60 per cent chance of coming out on the other side whole.

“But I’m the only guy you know at original wedding,” Ovi continues on, picking up the thread from where they left off. “That means something! Makes me important!” He smiles winningly at Sid.

Sidney is about to point out that Ovi doesn’t even remember their first wedding when Geno walks into the room, face flushed from practice and dripping with sweat, and well. Sid gets a little distracted.

Ever since he spilled the beans and the rest of the team found out about them, Geno’s been giving a whole new meaning to being out and proud—at least when it comes to Sid. He’s taken to giving him sloppy, obnoxiously loud goodbye and greeting kisses, grinning evilly and wiggling his brows whenever someone tells them to get a room.

Sid has been doing a very good job of pretending not to like it—he’s pretty sure Perry, at least, still believes him.

He’s angling his body towards Geno in anticipation of one such kiss, but then Geno sees Ovi and immediately gets his hackles up.

Sidney sighs. He’s long since given up trying to make sense of their strange on and off again friendship. He’s not even sure what Ovi’s done to annoy Geno this time, but it must have been something—Geno is narrowing his eyes at him.

“Why you here, Sanja?” he demands, and the use of the Russian nickname tells Sidney that whatever Ovi’s done, it can’t be too bad.

Ovi throws his head back, eyes positively gleaming as he smirks at Geno. “Zhenya!” he says. “You too busy to notice an old friend stopping by? I came to see end of practice. Get inside information before game on Thursday.”

“Did you really?” Beau blurts out, flushing when they all turn to look at him.

Sidney holds back a laugh. He pretty sure Ovi didn’t. He probably wouldn’t show up two days early just for that. Well. Maybe.

Geno only shakes his head at Beau before turning back to Ovi. “Sanja! Why you here, really?”

“I’m here to marry you!” Ovi exclaims excitedly, and Sidney groans, putting his head in his hands as the guys cry out in outrage on his behalf.

Ovi knew exactly what that sounded like, Sidney is sure of it.

(It takes him half an hour before the guys are willing to accept that Ovi has no designs on Geno and that he only meant he wanted to officiate their wedding– _No, Flower. For fuck’s sake! We’re not having another wedding!_ )


	147. Sid/Geno + Flower - Established relationship, light angst

He’s not even sniffling that loudly, his face tilted down and a little to the side, but Flower is like a bloodhound–and just as relentless.

“Are you _crying_?” he asks, half incredulous, half delighted. He leans into Sidney’s space, peering down at the tablet in his hands curiously.

Sidney knows better than to look at him.

“No.”

He winces. That was not at all convincing.

Next to him, Flower isn’t even trying to hide his wide smirk. “You are!” he crows. He turns in his seat to include Horny in the conversation. “Sid is crying over the Lion King,” he tells him, laughing delightedly.

Sidney can’t see Horny’s face, but he can hear the amusement in his voice as he says, “Oh? Is the kid movie too much for the captain to handle?”

Flower and Horny snicker as Sid bristles. He puts the film on pause, turning to glare at his teammates, and not doing a very good job of it, he suspects, with his red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.

“He watches his dad die!” he says hotly. “And he thinks he’s responsible. That’s fucking sad, people cry at sad things, and I’m people.”

He ignores the look Flower and Horny share, their mirth waning as Sid gets up from his seat, clutching the tablet to his chest as he stalks down the aisle until he reaches Geno’s row. It’s empty at the moment; Geno is further down the plane, playing cards with some of the guys.

Flower knows better than to follow him when he’s like this, but Horny calls out to him, his voice uncertain. Sid ignores him, can just barely hear Flower’s advise to just let him cool off for a while.

He’s overreacting, Sid knows that, but he can’t help the angry jerk in his limbs as he shuffles into Geno’s row, claiming the window seat he never uses. Geno’s legs are too long; he prefers the aisle seat where he can stretch out more comfortably.

He settles into the seat with his tablet, pushing play and scowling fiercely as Scar convinces Simba to leave the kingdom for his own safety. Fucking manipulative asshole with his selfish agenda.

Sidney sighs and closes his eyes. It’s possible he’s projecting a little.

“Hey, what movie you watch?”

Sidney startles, looking up in surprise to see Geno there. He hadn’t even noticed him returning to his seat.

“I–” He looks back at the animated lions on the screen. “The Lion King,” he says.

Geno hums.

“Sad movie. Good for cry.”

Sidney narrows his eyes at him, but he looks sincere and it doesn’t sound as if he’s teasing. “Yes,” Sid says, cautious. He bites his lip, looking between Geno and the tablet. “Do you want to watch with me?”

Geno beams at the offer. He shifts in his seat, pressing in close to Sidney before reaching out to grab the tablet, tilting it until he’s satisfied.

Sid releases a breath, relaxing into the warm press of Geno’s body.

They watch the movie in silence for a moment, Sidney’s tears drying now that Simba has made friends in Timon and Pumbaa. His cheeks sting a little from the dried up salt, though, and it pushes him to say, “I cry sometimes. At sad movies,” he adds when Geno looks at him with his brows raised in question.

Geno hums again, but doesn’t say anything, looking at Sid with his warm, brown eyes. 

Sidney has to look away, feels a blush rising in his cheeks.

“I’m not a–” _robot_. “I have feelings.”

“Of course. No one think you don’t.”

Sidney looks out the window, eyes fastening on the white of the passing clouds. “That reporter did,” he says, and is startled by how small his voice sounds. It’s not the first time some asshole reporter has painted Sid as an unfeeling robot, and it won’t be the last. There must be dozens of unflattering articles about him like that guy had written; Sidney doesn’t understand why this one is bothering him so much.

Geno plucks the tablet out of his hands entirely, putting it way before worming his arms around Sid, drawing him close for a hug. He presses a kiss to Sidney’s hair.

“You read own press,” he says, half accusing.

Sidney sighs. “Not on purpose. Flower showed it to me yesterday. He was just teasing, but I–” He breaks off, shifting to settle better against Geno’s hold. “I don’t know why this stupid article has me so on edge.”

“I can fix edge,” Geno says then, and Sidney has to hide his smile at the leer in his voice. “Want to join high-mile club? I’m think lavatory is empty.”

Geno moves as if to get up, and Sidney laughs, reaching out to pull him back. “No, asshole. And that’s _mile-_ high club,” he corrects, but he’s grinning, feeling his chest expand with all the feelings he has for Geno.

Geno tells him all the time how lucky he is that Sid puts up with him, that Sidney still hasn’t figured out that Geno tricked him into falling for him–Sidney usually just smiles and pulls him in for a kiss, but he thinks, sometimes, that _he_ is the one who tricked Geno. _He_ is the lucky one.

“I love you,” he says, low enough for Sunshine and Pooh Bear, who’s in the row behind them, not to overhear.

They try not to be too affectionate around the guys, and not just because Duper delights in throwing things at them and telling them to get a room, but because it gives them a false sense of security–makes it easier to slip up in public.

Despite that, Geno grins back at him and leans down, pressing his lips to Sidney’s in a slow and familiar kiss. “Love you too,” he whispers against Sid’s mouth–just as Duper walks by.

Duper lobs his empty soda can at Geno’s head, telling them to get a room and then cackles loudly when Geno turns to glower at him.

“I’m be back,” Geno says, “have to kill Duper now.”

Sidney shakes his head at them, laughing when Duper gleefully hurries up the aisle, seeking refuge with Paulie and Scuds.

He sighs contentedly, grabbing his tablet and pulling up the media player. He’s going to finish watching the damn movie, and if he tears up again, well, like Geno said, it’s a good film for cry.


	148. Sid/Geno - Planning to propose

**[_northisnotup_](http://northisnotup.tumblr.com/) _inquired:_ “It’s hideous. I love it.” He breaths almost reverently.**

* * *

Zhenya bristles. “It’s not hideous, _you_ are hideous. What are you even doing here?”

“You’re proposing, Zhenya! Obviously I’m here to offer my loving support.” Sanja grins obnoxiously, eyeing the ring again. It really is hideous, too big and too ostentatious and Crosby is going to absolutely hate it. But because he’s Sidney Crosby, and he is a fool for Zhenya, he is going to say yes and is going to wear the hideous ring, and Sanja cannot wait to see his face when it happens.

It’s going to be great.

* * *

**_Anonymous inquired:_ Hi! :D I just re-read your ficlet about Ovi chirping Geno about the engagement ring he bought Sid (a prompt from northisnotup), and was wondering if you had any plans on writing more in that verse?**

* * *

Both North and I legit forgot about this one (between the two of us, we tend to have at least half a dozen fics ongoing on any given day), but like, I wouldn’t even know where to go with it, because on the one hand I want to devote 20k to Geno’s quest for the perfect proposal (only to get foiled by _everyone ever_ every time he comes up with the perfect plan). But then I also want oblivious Sid who had absolutely no idea they were even at that level yet, but holy shit, that is the biggest, ugliest engagement ring he has ever seen, _ever._

It’s hidden inside the secret cookie jar in a cabinet in Geno’s kitchen, because _of course_ he would hide it there – Sidney swore off cookies three months ago; it’s the perfect hiding spot, considering, but then Vladimir and Natalia had been visiting and Natalia makes these delicious chocolate chip cookies. They’re simply to die for and Sidney has always been weak for chocolate.

He just wants the one, quick, before Geno comes back from the store, but now he has no cookie and a fucking engagement ring, and it looks small in his hand but it’s big and ugly and what the hell is he supposed to do now? There’s an _engagement_ ring, with a fucking _diamond_ , and it really is the ugliest thing Sidney has ever seen, but also, Geno bought it, for _him_ , and what does he _do?_ What–

“Sid? You still here?”

Sidney fumbles the ring before throwing it back into the jar and shoving it back where he’d found it. He slams the cabinet shut, spins on his heel and leans back against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his chest, pretending at casual and failing spectacularly.

“Hey!” he says when Geno steps into the kitchen; his voice is so high it breaks on the word.

Geno stares at him. “Hello,” he says slowly, approaching with more caution than warranted, Sidney thinks, but then he sees Geno’s eyes shift to the cabinet behind him and Sidney panics.

“Want to fuck?” he blurts out, and throws himself at Geno before he can get a word out, and well, when does either of them ever _not_ want to fuck?

So Sidney successfully manages to distract them both for a while, until they’re worn out and sex dumb and dozing on Geno’s bed in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and Sidney has to take a moment to just breathe, because–

Geno wants to propose. He wants them to get married, and that’s- Sidney hadn’t even known they were there yet, that this thing between them that had started out as something fun and easy and then suddenly had become so much more, was something Geno wanted for forever.

Sidney blinks. He feels Geno’s arms tighten around him, pressing a kiss to his neck and whispering an accusation of, “You think too loud,” before dozing off again.

Sidney hums at him distractedly. He pets Geno’s hair absentmindedly as he thinks about the engagement ring hidden inside the cookie jar in the kitchen cabinet. He thinks about Geno going into a jewellery store and picking out and buying it, for Sid. He thinks about how ugly it is.

And he thinks, as he lies in Geno’s arms, that he’s going to have to wear that ugly thing, because this, right now, forever, with Geno, is something Sidney wants too.

“Dammit.”

Sidney is going to get so much shit for that ring.


	149. Sid/Geno - New teammate, established relationship, PDA (Colorado Air)

They win handily in Colorado even if Sidney is still two points short of a thousand. He doesn’t care, not when Geno wasn’t there on the ice to have shared the moment anyway. It still feels good to go out and celebrate the win though, to catch up with Nate and Matty, and let Geno drag him back to the hotel when Flower reminds them all about curfew.

Sidney’s been feeling high off the win all night, and he’s still feeling a little euphoric when Geno crowds him into the door of his hotel room, or maybe that’s the shots Nate had talked him into earlier, or just the thin Colorado air. Whatever it is, Sid sighs in contentment, bending his neck to one side to grant Geno easier access.

He moans, grinding up against the thigh Geno has pressed against his crotch, feeling his cock take interest and chasing the pleasure it brings him.

“Geno,” Sidney pants out. He clutches at Geno’s broad back. “Come on, we shouldn’t do this out here. The others will see.”

Geno seems entirely unconcerned. He hums into Sidney’s skin, lips fastening just below his jaw line before he starts sucking a bruise into the delicate skin.

“G,” Sidney says weakly. He knows better than to let Geno leave visible marks on him, no matter how good it feels, but he’s finding it difficult to remember why when Geno’s mouth finds his, drawing him into a slick, filthy kiss, wet and messy the way Geno likes. Geno’s hands settle on Sidney’s ass, squeezing deliberately.

Sidney kisses back greedily, one hand reaching behind himself to frantically grapple with the door handle to his room before he remembers that he needs to insert the keycard. “Shit,” he mumbles against Geno’s mouth. “Geno, back off. Need the key,” he says, and then belies his own words by pushing back against Geno’s hands.

Geno grins at him smugly, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before one of his hands slides up over the swell of Sid’s ass, fingers reaching into the back pocket of Sid’s jeans and extracting the keycard. He holds it up, waving it teasingly in Sidney’s face.

Sid huffs, snatching the card from out of his hand and reaches out to push at Geno’s chest, forcefully moving him back before turning to open the door. He hasn’t even pushed the card into the electronic slot when he feels Geno pressing in close, draping himself across Sidney’s back.

“Too slow,” Geno complains, pressing kisses into Sidney neck.

“You’re the one slowing us down,” Sidney murmurs, breath stuttering when Geno’s mouth catches a particularly sensitive spot. Sidney gets the door open, but freezes in place when he hears a voice say, exasperated, “Really guys? Really? Anyone could have caught you, you know.”

Sid and Geno turn to look behind them.

It’s Tanger and Carter; Carter is staring at them with huge, shocked eyes, his jaw hanging loose. “Oh my _god_ ,” he whispers as Tanger snickers, already herding him further down the hall.

“Congratulations, mon ami. You have now caught Sid and Geno in a compromising position. Rest assured, it will probably happen again, but at least now we can say you are _truly_ an official Penguin.”

Sid closes his eyes, letting his head thud against the door in embarrassment.

“But! They were—! They’re _together?_ ” they can hear Carter stutter out incredulously, and Sid groans, elbowing Geno when he bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Sidney snaps. He pouts, embarrassed, and hurries into the room.

Geno follows at a more sedate pace, still snickering and reaching for Sidney with grabby hands. He kisses Sidney’s pout away, stroking gentle fingers over the high cut of his cheeks. He smiles against Sidney’s lips. “Was just Carter, babe. He find out later anyway.”

“Not like this!” Sidney bursts out, just barely remembering to lower his voice in time. Jake has the next room over, and Sidney doesn’t want to scar the poor boy. He has enough dealing with being the rookie on the team without having to suffer through his captain and alternate having a domestic as well.

Geno lets his hands fall from Sidney’s face, wrapping up Sid into his arms instead. “Hey now,” he says soothingly. “Keep pout like that, I’m keep kissing you.” He bends down to do just that, but Sidney rolls his eyes, hand lifting to push Geno’s face away.

“Don’t patronise me,” he says even as Geno chuckles at him.

“Am not.”

Sid sighs, but allows Geno to tighten his hold on him, sinking into the hug he’s pulled into. “You are,” he counters mulishly. “I don’t like it.”

Geno hums, rubbing his broad palms over Sidney’s back. “Okay,” he says agreeably. “Maybe I patronise you little bit.” He presses a kiss against Sid’s hair. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Sidney closes his eyes, feeling himself sag a little in Geno’s embrace, letting Geno take his weight and sway them back and forth lazily. It’s nice, better than nice actually. Sid is still feeling the effects of the win and the alcohol, but he no longer feels desperate to get off, would be perfectly content to just cuddle with Geno on the bed.

“Tired?”

“Mhm,” Sidney agrees. He lifts his head from where it’s been resting against Geno’s collarbone, pursing his lips in expectation of a kiss. Geno doesn’t disappoint, and he smiles softly when they break apart, eyes warm as he looks at Sid.

“Moment passed?”

Sid laughs at Geno’s mournful sigh. “Yeah, moment passed.” He bites his lip, casting a quick look at the bed. Maybe they won’t be having sex tonight after all, but— “Stay to cuddle?” Sidney asks hopefully and widens his eyes for good measure. Geno is hardly in the habit of telling him no, but he rarely denies him when Sid turns his eyes on him. _Too pretty_ , Geno always says. _Can’t say no when you look so pretty_.

Besides. It’s not like the bed isn’t big enough for the both of them.

Geno tightens his arms around Sidney. “Will stay as long as you want,” he promises.


	150. Sid/Geno - Domestic fluff, married bliss

Do you know what I want in a fic?

Established/everyone knows/actually married Sid and Geno. I want 100k of domestic bliss where Sid can’t really sleep anymore unless he gets his nightly goodnight kiss from Geno, not just a habit, but an integral part of their day.

I want them to have been married for so long that Geno’s jumbled mix of Russian and English is a language only Sid can interpret, having picked up a little Russian himself over the years. I want Geno to live in perpetual fear that he’ll one day come home to find that all his denim jackets are mysteriously gone, because Sid has strong feelings about them and none of them good.

I want surprisingly decent cook Sid, who packs them lunches for longer trips and who knows just what Geno likes–Geno, who everyone is always surprised to find out is a picky eater.

“Have _standards_ ,” he’ll sniff haughtily every time someone (Duper) brings it up, and Sidney will sigh fondly and kiss his cheek in reward because Geno always, _always_ follows that up with, “Besides, Sid best cook. Much better than _you_ , Pascal.”

I want Geno trolling Sid during interviews, where he sneaks up behind him and just drapes himself over Sidney’s back, burying his face into his neck and refusing to move until the interview is finished. The reporters tend to stare at them incredulously, but Sid remains stoic and professional, and other than the slight shift in his stance to better support Geno’s added weight, carries on as if his husband clinging to him is a perfectly normal occurrence–which, you know, it is.

They’d be a very affectionate couple. Geno has always been tactile, with friends and family, and with Sid even more so. He’s almost always touching him, a hand at the small of Sid’s back, fingers tangling together, kisses on the top of his head, his cheeks, his mouth. And Sidney blossoms under the attention, face lighting up and tilting towards him as if Geno is his sun–except it’s Sid that’s the centre, it’s Sid’s who’s the focal point that Geno orbits, always around, never too far away.

They’d be that couple everyone secretly hates a little bit. So happy and so obviously in love people can’t help but shake their heads at them. There would be goal celebrations with ecstatic kisses and too long hugs and everyone would sigh and say, “That’s just Sid and Geno. That’s how they are.”

I want international competitions where no one even blinks anymore at the lone Canadian making himself at home in the Russian camp, and where coaches don’t even _try_ to avoid the Crosby/Malkin match up because as much as they disapprove of fraternisation, no one can deny that Sid and Geno elevate their game when they match up against each other. It’s like foreplay for them, fun and teasing, trying to outdo the other. It usually leads to spectacular sex regardless of the end result. 

I want holidays where both their families are visiting and everything is crazy and loud because invariably there’ll be friends and teammates there too. Sid and Geno are generous people, and they take their duties seriously–their home is always open for those who doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

I even want the occasional blowout fight, where both of them are so angry, so furious they can’t even stand to be in the same room, too afraid they’ll say something they can’t take back. Sidney tends to end up at Mario’s place then, pouting and complaining about his husband to a largely unsympathetic audience.

He’ll stay there anyway, too stubborn and too proud to crawl back home to apologise. He’ll lie in the guest bed, the one that used to be his, twisting and turning uncomfortably because he hasn’t gotten his goodnight kiss and he misses Geno and this is stupid. He should just suck it up and go home. He’s planning to do just that when the door to his room opens, the light from the hallway illuminating Geno as he slips inside.

Sidney pushes up onto his elbows, staring at his husband in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Missed you.”

Geno shrugs off his jacket (denim, of course) and shucks off his shoes before climbing onto the bed, crawling to rest over Sidney. “Hi,” he says.

He looks unsure, uncertain of his welcome, and that’s not okay. Sidney doesn’t ever want him to be unsure about them.

He settles back into the mattress, hands lifting to cup Geno’s face, drawing him down for a kiss. “Hey,” Sidney mumbles against his lips.

Geno sighs, relieved. He kisses Sidney again, deeper, almost desperate. “M’sorry,” he says, and keeps saying it, whispering it into Sid’s skin like it’s the only English he remembers.

Sidney shakes his head. “No, I’m the sorry one. It’s my fault, I’m the stupid one.”

“Both stupid.”

Sidney smiles at that. Geno is nothing if not forgiving, almost to a fault–Sid isn’t sure he’s always deserving of it.

“Sleep with me?” he asks. They should probably go home, but it’s late, and Geno is already there. It’s not like Mario will care they slept over–wouldn’t be the first time he woke up to find that Geno had snuck into Sidney’s room.

Geno doesn’t say anything, just lies down next to Sid, jostling him until they’re a tangle of legs and arms, so close Sidney can feel Geno’s exhales on his lips.

They won’t stay like that for long. Geno’s like a furnace, and Sidney will inevitably roll away from the heat of his body, bringing with him the covers and then Geno, who’ll inch closer in search of them until they’re plastered together, only Geno’s hold on him keeping Sidney from rolling off the bed.

But for now, it’s prefect.


	151. Sid/Geno - Harlequin Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I have written a lil’ something something for northisnotup‘s Harlequin Challenge a few weeks back (better late than never, love. sorry (-’_’-))
> 
> Anyway, my excerpt was:
> 
> The Russian’s Ruthless Demand
> 
> Determined to prove herself to her illustrious family, Eleanore Harrington accepts an offer to create a glittering new ice hotel (Imma make this a hockey arena, kay?). The catch? Her new boss is Lukas Kuznetskov, a man as cold and unyielding as the ice she works with.
> 
> Lukas assumed that Eleanore would melt to his every command. But his blood is fired by the white-hot embers smoldering between them, and his focus shifts from professional to pleasure! When he discovers Eleanore’s body is as pure as the driven snow, the ruthless Russian makes her virginity his final demand…

Zhenya is hardly willing to believe it.

“How?”

Surely, it must be a lie. Sidney is a healthy, good-looking man, already in his late twenties. How can he still be a virgin?

“That’s non of your business.” Sidney’s limbs are stiff as he gathers up his files from Zhenya’s desk, foregoing his usual careful ordering as he angrily shoves them into the thick folder in his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Malkin, I have some designs to revise. I’m sure our contractors will be able to accommodate your demands, but we need to revisit the budget and–”

“Do you not like sex? Are you a–” Zhenya pauses, casting around his mind for the right word. “An asexual, I believe the term is.”

Sidney freezes. He looks up, eyes meeting Zhenya’s curious ones as he flushes a healthy red.

Zhenya tilts his head, watching him. Sidney has been working for him for nearly a month now, trying to have Zhenya’s arena up and running before the start of the new season. In all that time, Sidney has been nothing but courteous and professional, showing infinite amount of patience for his people’s boisterous ways.

Russians are wary of strangers, but once considered friends, they can be sometimes overwhelming to foreigners, he knows, thinking of Sanja and how much he loves to tease Sidney, restrained and polite as he is.

This is the first time Zhenya has seen Sidney so flustered, so off his game. And all because of a careless comment.

_You’d think you’d never had sex before at all, you’re so uptight._

Zhenya lets his eyes rove over Sidney’s form, taking in his broad shoulders and his plump, red, red lips. What a waste, he thinks, that no one has ever showed Sidney how good he can feel, how much pleasure there is to be had from flesh touching flesh.

“I’m not an _asexual_ ,” Sidney hisses at him, half scandalised and half outraged. “I just. There’s never–” He breathes in deeply. “This really is none of your business. _Good day_ , Mr. Malkin.”

“Zhenya. How many times must I tell you? Call me Zhenya, please.”

Zhenya walks around his desk, advancing on Sidney and watching him back up until he’s pressed up against the door to his office, Zhenya crowding into his space as though it is his due.

He lifts his arms, placing them against the wood of the door to box Sidney in, his gaze heated as he takes in Sidney’s wide, shocked eyes.

“What are you–?”

“I’m making it my business.” Zhenya leans in, nosing along Sidney’s temple as he holds stock still. “Let’s make another business agreement,” Zhenya tells him, drawing back so their eyes can meet again. “One that will benefit us both.”

He dips his head, kissing Sidney deep and hard, licking at the seam of his lips until he parts them and Zhenya can slip his tongue inside. When they break apart, they’re both panting, Zhenya’s eyes dark as his gaze follows the tongue Sidney traces over his bottom lip.

“What do you say?”

Sidney stares up at him silently for a second. He pushes at Zhenya’s chest. “I say good day, Mr. Malkin.”

He leaves before Zhenya can get another word in, and Zhenya watches him, lips stretching into a predatory smile as the door closes behind him.

This isn’t over. Far from it.


	152. Sid/Geno - Lex Luthor!Geno, Superman!Sid, secret identity

Lex Luthor!Geno…billionaire Geno showering Sid in money because that’s what you do with a trophy husband you don’t want to leave you. **  
**

(This is a Geno that has no idea Sid is superman).

This is a Geno who thinks Sid married him for his money to save Cole harbour from financial crisis by giving Geno reason to invest in the small town—to fix up the run down rinks and create jobs for the thousand of people who needs one.

(This turned into a Harlequin/Superman mash up. I’m sorry. I’m 100% trash. I don’t know how that happened.)

There’s Geno giving Sid all the jewellry. All of it.. And there’s Sid pretending not to like it and cursing up a storm because he never actually says no (can’t when Geno is beaming at him expectantly like that), but it’s a bitch to get off all the pretty diamonds (and not lose them) when Sid has to fly off to save the world, all without his husband noticing somehow.

This is how Geno finds out Sidney is superman: he gives Sid a gorgeous ring, platinum band and kryptonite stone. It’s stunning, one of a kind, and Sid, the idiot, really does love Geno a lot (even though Geno doesn’t realise). He wears the ring for about two seconds before he promptly falls to the ground, body so heavy and sore he can’t even move. Geno is a lot of things; he’s furious with his stupid husband for not telling him before or even just coming up with an excuse not to wear the ring, but he’s not stupid, and very observant.

He gets rid of the ring.

When Sid’s strength returns, he sheepishly thanks Geno, blushing because Geno *carried* him to bed, and a little sullen by how Geno found out. This was not at all his plan.

Geno is not impressed. But he loves Sid a lot.

“Stupid,” he says. “Why you never tell me before? I’m married Superman; is big news. Could have sex in air!”

Sid gapes at him. “Geno!” he sputters, shocked (and a little intrigued. He wonders how that would work). “So what now?” Sid asks. He’s biting his lip, worried that Geno maybe wants a divorce, that he will think Sid tricked him into marrying him, or did so under false pretenses.

Geno shrugs. He watches Sid intently. “Didn’t have to marry me, did you?” he asks, and watches as Sid shakes his head, hiding his eyes from Geno. “No,” Sid replies, a little shy. “I wanted to, because I’m in love with you. No other reason.” And maybe he had known that Geno thought Sid married him for his money, but, *Sid* had thought Geno wouldn’t have done it otherwise. He thinks they both have probably been a little silly.

“Communication!” his mom would say. “It’s the cornerstone of every marriage!”

Sid should really start listening to his mom.

“So, are you mad?” He’s not sure he wants to know, but he has to ask. No more secrets. All the cards on the table now.

Geno shakes his head firmly. “No!” he says, and Sid recognises the tone of incredulity in his voice (the same kind of wonder as when he’d found out Sid was a virgin on their wedding night). “I’m surprised, maybe little bit shocked,” he admits, looking at Sid warmly. “But you in love with me.” The wonder is more obvious now, as if Geno can’t quite wrap his head around that fact. As if that is more important than Sid being Superman (or potential flying sex).

“You in love with me,” Geno says again. He grins, big and wide. “Is good, cause I’m love you.” He has been seated on the edge of the bed, but he shuffles closer now, leaning in close so he can take Sid’s face between his hands. “I’m love you very much. Want to stay married to you, always. If you have me.”

And, well. Sid *did* promise forever. He’d stood in a church before God and all of his friends and family and said, “Till death do us part.”

Geno smiles at him, the love so obvious in his eyes Sid can’t mistake it for anything else.

“Till death do us part,” Geno answers, and kisses him.


	153. Sid/Geno - College professors AU, Ratemyprofessor dot com (Lecture This)

Zhenya stares at his computer screen, baffled, and not a little annoyed.

He’s been teaching at the university for three years now, and for three years running, he’s been the highest-rated professor on ratemyprofessor dot com.

It’s not as if it’s some particularly prestigious honour, but Zhenya genuinely enjoys teaching, and he cares for his students; he’s man enough to admit that there is a smug satisfaction in knowing that his students like him back. More than the other staff. More than _Sanja_.

So he stares at the new rankings and can’t help but feeling a little betrayed. _Second_ , he’s been allocated to second place, and not even the fact that Sanja has fallen from fifth to eighth best can soothe the blow to his ego. Even worse, the students seem to have gone crazy with their chilli-pepper hotness ratings.

This is unacceptable, he thinks, staring at the name at the top of the list. Who is this Sidney Crosby, and why has Zhenya never heard of him before?

No matter. Zhenya will not stand for this gross atrocity. Obviously, this needs investigating.

He starts by browsing the reviews, and quickly learns that Sidney Crosby has a Phd in Canadian history, specialising in military history and its surrounding wars. The site has him touted as an intense lecturer, but engaging and attentive to his students.

Kind, they’re calling him, despite what appears to be his high expectations and demanding ways. Sweet and adorable are also words common in the reviews, but by far the most talked about asset of Sidney Crosby is his, well, _ass_ et. His mouth is, apparently, rather admirable as well.

Zhenya is intrigued.

He tells himself he’s only staking out the competition, that it’s just a little healthy curiosity when he types in the name Sidney Crosby into the university’s database and proceeds to enter the information he finds into his phone.

He looks at his watch, figures he’s got enough time, and makes his way out his office, trekking across campus until he reaches the history department. It’s only when he gets there that Zhenya realises he may have a slight problem here. He makes it a point to stay away from the history department most of the time. He gets a big enough dose of Sanja outside of school; seeking him out in between his Russian history seminars would be seeing more of his friend than Zhenya is equipped to handle. It’s a policy he’s largely stuck to, but it does leave him without the proper knowledge to navigate the maze of corridors that is the history department.

“How the fuck does anyone get around in here?” he mutters to himself in Russian as he stares at the signs on the wall before him, trying to make sense of their instructions. He’s getting annoyed, acutely aware that the time is ticking away and soon Dr. Crosby’s lecture will be over. Zhenya knows he can just come back some other day, but he’s never claimed to be a patient man, and he must see who this Sidney Crosby is to have gotten a better ranking than Zhenya.

Maybe it was some kind of mistake, he thinks absently as he looks between the right and left corridors, and debating whether he shouldn’t just take the corridor ahead of him. Obviously, Zhenya is best. Maybe it was a computer glitch? Or maybe Zhenya is more invested in those rankings than he’d previously let himself believe. “This is stupid.”

“Professor Malkin?”

“Carrie!” he says when he’s spun around to see one of his maths students. “You take history too, da? Know where Dr. Crosby is lecturing?”

She looks at him surprised for a moment, but then she smiles. “Yes,” she says. “I was just headed there myself. His lecture should end in about five minutes, but he has another one right after.” She takes the left corridor, and Zhenya follows her dutifully, chatting easily about the assignment Zhenya handed out the previous class. “Here we are,” Carrie says, just as the door before them bursts open and a throng of students amble out.

They plaster themselves against the wall to avoid the worst of the crowd, waiting until it’s just a trickle before making their way inside the lecture hall. Carrie smiles at him. “I’m going to find a seat. Have a good day, professor.”

Zhenya nods at her, watching as she finds a seat by one of her friends before looking back at the front of the room. The man on the slightly raised stage, Dr. Crosby, Zhenya presumes, is standing bent over his computer with his back to the room.

Zhenya’s first impression is that the reviews had, astonishingly, failed to do Dr. Crosby’s asset justice. That ass is truly something else. Spectacular, really, if Zhenya had to describe it.

He is probably more blatant than advisable as he stares at Dr. Crosby’s fine ass, but, well, who could blame him? He is still staring when the man turns around and—

Wow.

If his lectures are half as good as he looks, Zhenya thinks he might understand why Dr. Crosby has beaten him out of first place.

It is possible that Zhenya may be in more trouble than he realised. He is so stunned by this gorgeous creature it takes him a while to process the words being spoken to him.

“What?” he says dumbly; he blinks his eyes and is startled to realise that Dr. Crosby is standing right in front of him.

“I asked if there was something I could do for you,” Dr. Crosby says, laughing a little at the stupefied look on Zhenya’s face.

Zhenya smiles helplessly at his honking laugh. It’s ridiculous, probably one of the most ridiculous sounds he’s ever heard, but Zhenya is utterly charmed. “I’m Evgeni,” he bursts out. He holds out his hand, smile widening, turning flirty and deliberate when Dr. Crosby takes his hand. “Evgeni Malkin. But you call me Geno,” he continues, letting his thumb stroke gently over the soft skin on the hand in his.

Dr. Crosby looks down at their joint hands, arching his brows at Zhenya’s boldness. “Sidney,” he says, and makes no move to remove his hand. Instead, he raises his gaze, looking back at Zhenya a little challengingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

And really, if Zhenya wasn’t a goner before, he is now.

“Sidney,” he repeats, and has to physically restrain himself from taking a step closer. This is neither the time or place, but there is potential here, Zhenya thinks. A lot of it, if the way Sidney wets his bottom lip is any indication. And it must be, because the smirk that stretches across Sidney’s face when he notices Zhenya staring helplessly at his mouth is positively filthy.

It does things to Zhenya.

“Dr. Crosby?” a hesitant voice interrupts them, and they both turn to the guy speaking. Zhenya is surprised to find the hall is filled with students now, and a quick glance at his watch reveals that the lecture should have already started.

Sidney sighs regretfully, finally pulling his hand away. “I’ll be right with you,” he addresses the hall at large, and then focuses back on Zhenya. “Are you staying for the lecture?” he asks him, smiling when he adds, “Geno.”

Zhenya really shouldn’t. Doesn’t have the time, to be honest, but—

“Nowhere else to be,” he says, and while that isn’t true, this is where he wants to be. Zhenya is a little shocked to realise just how true that is.

Sidney nods, looking pleased when he says, “Good. We can go out for coffee when I’m done.”

Zhenya is grinning when he finds a seat in the back as Sidney begins his lecture. They’ll go out for coffee, and maybe even dinner if Zhenya can persuade him.

And after that, well, Zhenya has a whole list of things they can do.


	154. Sid/Geno - Space cops (and robbers), 5 head canons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> werewolfzero inquired:Space cop AU or Sid is older than Geno AU

1\. Sidney Crosby must be the most polite criminal Zhenya has ever met. He’s not even a particularly good criminal, considering. He’s never violent, never causes millions in property damages like those fucking Blackhawks, he only steals from the rich, and he doesn’t lie. Ever. Zhenya’s not sure he even can (he’s seen the flushed, stuttering mess Crosby becomes when he tries to remember his cover stories. It’s not at all attractive. Not even a little bit).

2\. What he is, is an excellent escape artist.

“Again? Are you fucking kidding me? He escaped, _again?_ ”

Zhenya suppresses a wince. He shares a look with Sanja as their Captain rages at the poor officer in front of him. Zhenya suspects the guy will be relegated to traffic duty for the unforeseeable future. He feels for the guy; hovercrafts in civilian traffic are a fucking nightmare.

“How did he even get into the emergency pod?” Captain Gonchar demands, and the officer visibly shrinks. He looks absolutely miserable as he says, “He used the keys.”

Gonchar stares at the officer, and Zhenya can’t quite suppress his wince this time. Oh, this poor idiot.

“How did he get the keys?”

“I- I gave them to him.”

3\. Here’s what happened.

Crosby and his crew pulled a casino heist in the entertainment sector of New Moscow; they cleaned it out, got away with credits worth millions. For reasons known only to himself, probably, Crosby remained at the scene of the crime while his crew (the Penguins) made their getaway.

“Geno,” Crosby says softly when Zhenya and his partner shows up. He sounds impossibly fond.

Zhenya sighs, looks at the turned out hands Crosby is already holding out to be cuffed, and says, “Why you stay, Crosby? Know we take you in.” He glances over his shoulder to make sure Sanja is looking the other way before he says, his voice lowered, “They won’t let you go free. They’ll lock you up.”

Zhenya is not worried about that. Not at all.

Crosby smiles at him. “How many times must I tell you to call me Sid?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle over the English vowels.

He speaks Russian, Zhenya knows, almost everyone does these days, but Crosby is of an old stock; he’s stubborn, forces Zhenya to speak the old language just because he can (because Zhenya lets him).

Zhenya breathes in deep. “Sid,” he whispers, but it’s enough.

Sidney’s smile gentles, and as he steps forward into Zhenya’s pace, Sanja loudly begins taking witness statements, pretending he doesn’t see the way Zhenya holds still when Sid kisses him, a quick, half-familiar press against his lips.

“I missed you.” Sidney mumbles the confession against his mouth, sweet and loving, and Zhenya doesn’t care.

He is a cop and Sidney is a criminal. They do not have a relationship beyond what their roles dictate.

Zhenya does not care for him. He doesn’t.

4\. Zhenya brings him in, handcuffed and docile. He places him in a holding cell, tries to ignore the way Sidney’s pretty, green eyes crinkle at the corners when he chuckles at Zhenya’s grumbles, and places an officer in front of the cell with strict orders not to let him out of his sight.

Probably leaving the officer alone with Sidney was a mistake.

Sidney is very charming. Zhenya knows all about that.

5\. Zhenya steps into his flat and freezes. There is someone there.

He reaches for the holster at his hips, tense even as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his gun, sure and steady.

“Geno,” Sidney says. He flicks a switch and light floods the room. Zhenya lets out a breath, the tension leaving him all at once.

Sidney grins. He looks completely at ease, as if he’s not a criminal in a cop’s home. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The fuck you doing here?” Zhenya grunts out. He doesn’t say what he wants to. He doesn’t say, _are you okay? Why did you come back, you idiot? You need to stay safe, if only for my sanity._

Sidney smiles as if he hears him anyway. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. My departure was kind of sudden.” He shrugs carelessly, as if he hadn’t talked a young police officer into letting him out of his cell and giving him the keys to an escape pod.

Zhenya has to shake his head. Sidney is charming, yes, but honestly, to just let him walk out like that – what are they teaching the kids at the academy these days? 

“I hope that officer doesn’t get into too much trouble. He really was very kind.”

Sid steps closer to Zhenya, eyeing him carefully all the while. He looks pleased when Zhenya doesn’t move, holding himself still as he lets Sidney press into his space.

(He always does.)

“Geno.”

Sidney leans forward. He kisses the corner of Zhenya’s mouth. “Are you very angry with me?” he asks. He wraps his arms around Zhenya’s shoulders, pulling him closer and nuzzling his face into Zhenya’s neck. “Are you going to turn me in?”

Zhenya should. It’s what his job requires of him, it’s what’s right. Sidney is a criminal and Zhenya is a cop.

He should turn him in, but he doesn’t – he doesn’t, because he knows Sidney would go along with it if he did, and that–

“No,” he whispers, and watches the smile break out on Sidney’s face; he’s lovely, beautiful, so fucking breathtaking Zhenya hardly knows what to do with himself.

“No,” he says again, and it’s him, this time, who leans in for a kiss, and then another, and another. They kiss for what seems like ages, and then they do a lot more than kissing.

\+ 1. When Zhenya wakes in the morning, there is breakfast waiting for him, but Sidney is gone, only a note left behind to excuse his absence. _Until next time,_ it says. _Love Sidney_.

\+ 2. The next time they meet, Zhenya brings him in, handcuffed as usual. It takes Sidney forty-three minutes to escape. 


	155. Sid/Geno - Different teams AU, first meeting (When In Prague)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired: man i need a fic where Geno is in that leather jacket (tall handsome dangerous looking) picking up Sid at an european club. Maybe they know each other but the other guys from team canada just think Sid’s having an anonymous hook up in and have nooo clue its geno or maybe they don’t know each other at all! All the different versions!! I needs them! >.<

That would be[ this leather jacket](http://hazel-3017.tumblr.com/post/119433837636/jfc-x) (jfc!), and yeah, he’s hot as fuck in that pic. I can totally picture Geno picking up Sid in a trendy club in Prague. They’re not even supposed to be out, any of them. Team Russia just got into the city earlier that day and both teams are playing in the semis tomorrow. Tensions are high, though, and the mood is giddy; coaches figures it’s better to give the players a chance to get it our of their systems, to calm them some for tomorrow’s games.

There is still a curfew though, and the teams are all in the same club. The collective coaching staff figure it’s all controlled chaos. Better than having the players sneaking out and getting up to God knows what with God knows who ( _no one_ wants a repeat of the ‘09 incident. Sidney has heard the stories).

He’s generally not much for clubbing, more of a bar person when he does go out, but he’s a team player always and his team wants to go. Which is why Sidney lets Segs coerce him into a truly indecent pair of jeans and Claude buy him his first drink. They’re friends now. Friendly. Or maybe friendly-ish? Segs calls them frenemies, but Sidney is not entirely sure that’s even a word and wow, somehow that one drink turned into five and Sidney is possibly a little drunk right now.

Or maybe a lot drunk, he thinks as he stumbles outside the men’s restroom, frowning in confusion when his world starts tilting on its axis.

“Whoa!” Strong arms wrap around his elbows, steadying him before Sidney completely loses his balance. “You okay? Maybe should sit down, da?”

Sidney blinks up at his unexpected aid, eyelids fluttering uselessly as he tries to make out the face before him.

He looks familiar; Sidney has seen those warm eyes staring back at him before, in a different setting, shielded behind a visor.

“Evgeni Malkin.”

“Sidney Crosby.” Malkin grins at him. It crinkles the corner of his eyes, and Sidney thinks, inanely, that this is the first time he’s seen Malkin in civilian clothes. He looks unexpectedly handsome, the leather jacket he’s wearing clinging to the broad length of his shoulders.

Sidney is a little jealous; he can’t pull off a leather jacket at all. He bought one once. Flower had laughed so hard when he’d seen him wearing it he had tripped over his own two feet.

He’d been standing still at the time.

“Evgeni Malkin,” Sidney says again, but feels he can be forgiven for being a little slow under the circumstances. Somehow, despite knowing Team Russia was also at the club, he hadn’t expected to find himself alone with the best player in the world not playing for the NHL.

It’s a shame Malkin never made it out of Russia, Sid thinks. He’s amazing.

Malkin laughs at him. “Can call me Geno,” he offers, letting go of Sid’s elbows to hold out a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet.”

Sidney shakes his hand and says, “Hi, yes, I’m Sid. Sidney Crosby. Just Sid, really,” he rambles. “Nice to meet you too.”

They’re still shaking hands.

“So, just Sid,” Geno says. He tugs at their joint hand, hard enough to have Sid stumbling into him, grinning wide when Sidney lifts his head to stare up at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Want to hook up?”

Sidney has been propositioned _a lot_ in his life. It comes with the fame and the ass and the lips, but never has anyone come on to him so blatantly and so soon after their acquaintance.

He’s pretty sure it hasn’t even been five minutes. It must be some kind of record.

If he’d been a little more sober, Sidney would maybe have played coy. Would have made a joke about not being that kind of girl and made Geno work for it. But he’s not completely sober, and he’s really fucking horny, so he says, “God yes,” and clamps his hand around Geno’s neck, drawing him down for a kiss.

It’s messy and filthy and so fucking glorious Sidney could die from it. He moans into Geno’s mouth, presses a thigh between his legs, and then has to pull back to stare at Geno incredulously when he feels the bulge of his erection.

Holy shit is it huge. Sidney wants that thing inside of him.

“You should fuck me,” he blurts out, face breaking into a smirk at the way Geno forcibly closes his eyes at that, looking as if Sid just sucker punched him. “Yeah. You should definitely fuck me.”

Geno makes a sound like he’s dying, grabbing Sidney’s face between his hands and crashing their mouths together, kissing him hard.

“Come back to hotel with me. Have room on my own. Perk of being captain, da?”

And while Sidney has no such perks (fucking Matty and his inability to keep a room clean), he is very much on board with that idea.

“Yeah,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

(Only Claude notices them as they sneak out of the club, giggly and hand in hand. He raises his glass in approval at Sidney; he’s been urging him to pick up for days now.

Seriously, their not-friendship is so weird.)


	156. Sid/Geno + Claude Giroux - Veterinarian!Sid, Flyers!Geno (Splashed)

First of all, Claude would like all parties involved to know, just for the record, that it was Geno who’d been tasked with looking after the pets while the Brières were gone.

Claude was the one Danny had handed the metaphorical keys to and given strict instructions not to trash the place while he and the kids were away.

Simple enough. Claude was responsible for the house, Geno for the pets. Including Cameron’s five goldfish – affectionally dubbed Gordie, Mario, Bobby, and Wayne. And Ovi.

(They have yet to figure out where the nine-year-old’s fascination with Ovechkin comes from, but no one can deny that Cameron idolises the man.

Geno, in particular, is very baffled. _Why like Sanja so much when can like me best?_ )

Second of all, if Claude had known from the start that he could have bought a new goldfish at the mall for three dollars and Cameron would have been none the wiser, he would have fucking spent those three dollars.

The Brières are only gone four days, taking advantage of an unusual long stretch without games to go visit Danny’s parents, and at first, Claude and Geno manage on their own just fine.

They get through Thursday and Friday without anyone setting fire to anything of importance, and rely on takeout for sustenance.

Saturday is when things start turning bad. Saturday is when Jeff and Mike figure out that Danny and the kids are out of town and Claude and Geno have the house to themselves.

“We’re not having a party,” Claude says firmly when they show up at the door with two six-packs of beer each and tell them that Scotty and Carcillo are on the way.

Three hours later, it’s a party.

“Danny will be very disappointed,” Geno predicts when Scotty fumbles a glass and it goes crashing to the ground, broken shards flying everywhere.

Claude has to take a deep breath and count backwards from ten in order not to kill someone. His nerves are already shot from having spent the night tailing after Jeff - Lord knows a drunk Jeff Carter should never be left to his own devices.

Scotty drops another glass and, “ _Very_ disappointed,” Geno says, nodding sagely.

Claude throws them all out not soon after, and he and Geno spend the remainder of the night cleaning up before finally crashing at the wee hours of the morning.

Claude reckons he gets about two and a half hour of sleep before Geno barges in through his door, clutching frantically at his hair and looking wild around the eyes.

“Wha–?”

“Wayne is dead!” Geno exclaims, looking at Claude as if he expects him to appreciate the gravity of the situation.

“Who the fuck is Wayne?”

“Wayne Gretzky!” Geno says, and for a second Claude has time enough to think, holy fucking shit! Wayne Gretzky is _dead_? before Geno follows up with, “Cameron’s fish, Wayne Gretzky!”

Claude’s head collapses back against his bed. He groans into his pillow. “Go away, Geno. I thought fucking Wayne Gretzky was dead just now. The _real_ Wayne Gretzky.”

Geno clucks his tongue at him. “Should not curse so much,” he scolds, and then says, “Wayne is very important to Cameron, should be important to us too. He trust us to take care when he gone.”

“No, he trusted _you_ to take care of the fish. I have no part in this.”

“I’m think Jeff killed Wayne! Means you have part! _You_ have party last night.”

And fucking hell, Claude never should have told Jeff and Mike that Danny was out of town, and he definitely, definitely should not have taken a piss and left Jeff unattended last night.

He groans again. “How did Jeff kill the fish? It’s a fish.”

“Give fish beer.”

And yeah. Jeff would totally give a fish beer.

Claude climbs out of bed, following Geno as he leads the way into Cameron’s room. “What about the other fish?” he thinks to ask.

Geno doesn’t answer. Instead, he points to where next to the big fish tank, there is a smaller bowl, one lone goldfish floating upside down. There is a can of beer next to the bowl, empty, Claude guesses, from the discolouration of the water.

“Wayne sick, so he in bowl by himself. But now I’m think Wayne is dead.” Geno looks profoundly affected by the tragedy, and if Claude didn’t know how fiercely he cared for _all_ animals, he would have been chirping the hell out of him.

“What we do?” Geno asks helplessly. “Cameron trust us to take care of fish, but we kill Wayne!” He stares, miserable, at the floating fish.

“Shit,” Claude sighs. “Are you sure it’s dead? My cousin had a goldfish they thought was dead and then it woke up when they were gonna flush it down the toilet.”

For a moment, Geno looks torn between utter outrage that anyone would flush a fish down the toilet instead of giving it a proper burial, and desperate hope that Wayne is somehow still alive.

The hope wins out.

“We must bring fish to emergency animal doctor. Danny and the kids not home for a few hours. Maybe we still have time!”

Claude frowns sceptically. “It’s a Sunday. What kind of vet is open on a Sunday? For a fish, I mean,” he elaborates when Geno looks ready to argue.

Geno visibly wilts, and Claude sighs again. Fuck it, he thinks. It’s Philly, and they play for the Flyers. Someone, somewhere must be willing to look at the damn fish.

A couple of hours later, they’ve been turned away by no less than three vets, and Claude is just about ready to cut his losses when Geno looks at him with his big dopey eyes and says, “One more, please.”

They check out one more vet, and are accepted in through the doors with a regretful, “I’m just an intern, so I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” and a crooked, half smile by an attractive guy with truly the most spectacular ass Claude has ever seen.

Even Geno, distraught as he is, takes notice of the ass.

“Any help is good help,” Geno says, remembering to be charming even as he is visibly worried about the fish he places in front of the guy.

“Sidney,” he introduces himself as he taps the glass of the bowl gently.

The fish doesn’t move.

“What happened?” he asks, brows furrowing deeply as he snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and carefully grips Wayne’s tail, lifting him a little ways out of the water before easing him back.

“Got fed beer,” Claude says bluntly. “Probably a lot of it. We changed the water before we left but it looked pretty murky.”

“And was sick before,” Geno adds.

Sidney stares at them. “Why– why would you give a fish beer?”

Geno sighs sadly. “Not us. Was friend. He drunk.”

“I see,” Sidney says slowly, and clearly doesn’t. He snaps off his rubber gloves, throwing them in the bin before saying, “I’m afraid the fish–”

“Wayne,” Geno interjects.

“Wayne,” Sidney repeats with a doubtful look at them. “I’m afraid Wayne is dead. If you had gotten here earlier or he hadn’t been sick already, maybe we could have saved him, but–” He shrugs helplessly, actually looking sad about it, Claude thinks. What the fuck?

“I’m sorry.”

“Is my fault!” Geno says despondently, looking about ready to burst into tears, and Claude stares in disbelief as Sidney immediately walks around the examination table to gather him into his arms, assuring him that it hadn’t been his fault and there was nothing he could have done different.

Geno sighs deeply, but wraps himself around Sidney and placidly accepts his comforting words.

Thirty minutes later, they leave with Wayne in a little box and Geno with Sidney’s number in his pocket and the promise of a date the next weekend.

(Sidney turned out to be a hockey fan. He claimed the Penguins as his team, but Geno was apparently willing to overlook this great travesty. Claude suspects a lot if it has to do with Sidney’s ass.)

“How the fuck?” he mutters under his breath as he settles in the driver’s seat of their car. Wayne Gretzky dies and somehow Geno manages to get a date out of it?

That slick son of a bitch.

“I hope Cameron will not be too sad that Wayne died. You think he’ll be sad?” Geno asks.

Claude rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a fish. How upset can he be?”

Very, as it turns out, and it will take the better part of a month before Cameron comes anywhere close to forgiving them.

(In that time, they bury Wayne Gretzky with much ceremony, and Geno and Sidney go out on no less than five dates. They are now a couple. A disgustingly sweet couple.)

“You know,” Jeff says, later, when Claude accuses him of being the direct cause of at least ninety per cent of Claude’s pain, “you could have just bought a new goldfish at the mall. It would have cost you, like, three dollars.”

Claude swears loudly.

(He hits Jeff extra hard at practice that day.)


	157. Sid/Geno - Penalty box attendant!Sid, smitten!Geno

have I told you about the fic idea where Geno takes all the penalties because Sid is one of the penalty box attendants?

“Fuuuck. Geno is going to spend most of this game in the box.”

“Huh? What, why?”

“Crosby’s an attendant tonight.”

“Fuuuck.”

The Penguins fanbase as a whole gets understandably nervous during playoffs in this verse. Mostly because the refs are more likely to let things go and Geno has to be extra beast-like for them to give him a penalty.

(Geno usually leads all players in points _and_ penalty minutes.)

They’re fine any time Sidney Crosby isn’t the penalty box attendant, but if he’s there, all bets are off.

The fans would probably complain about it more if it wasn’t for that one article some hockey analytic wrote about how Evgeni Malkin’s production rises anytime penalty box attendant Sidney Crosby is working the game. Like, there is a direct correlation there… aka filthy goals and bad penalties is how Geno flirts.

Sidney is mostly bemused but also flattered (and flustered; Evgeni Malkin is just so _big_ and so _good_ at hockey and is also kinda hot and Sid wouldn’t be entirely opposed to let Geno take him to bed). 

Tanger and Flower shake their heads a lot and also think that Geno is an idiot who should learn to flirt like a normal person.

Their teammates agree, and coach Sully has mostly resigned himself to the fact that Geno’s gonna do what Geno does.

(Phil thinks the whole thing is _hilarious_ and secretly eggs Geno on.)


	158. Sid/Geno - Penguins!Sid, Flyers!Geno, rivals, penalty box

The first time it happens, Greg-the-penalty-box-attendant, says, “Sarah, my sitter just canceled, I have to fucking leave. I’m so sorry,” and Sarah-the-ice-crew-manager exclaims, “But you have the box tonight!”

Sidney, on his way to the locker room to talk to some of the guys before the game starts, happens to be walking by at this moment (slowly and on crutches), and can’t help but overhear. In his infinite wisdom—and, suffering from a broken foot that’s been encased in a cast for too long already and is all the motivation he needs, really—Sidney offers, “I could do it?”

Sarah and Greg turn to stare at him as if he’s gone completely bonkers.

Sidney flushes self-consciously. It’s just the penalty box. He’s pretty sure he can manage to keep track of minutes and infractions and player names. It’s not exactly rocket science, he reasons to himself. “Not like I’ll be playing anyway.” He glances down pointedly at his crutches and broken foot.

Sarah swears. “Fuck. Yeah, ok. I don’t have time to find someone else anyway.” She eyes Sidney dubiously. “Just, if Mr. Lemieux asks, this was definitely your idea, right?”

“For sure,” Sidney says agreeably, because it was and he’s not sure why he would lie about it.

Sarah’s look turns pitying and she murmurs something under her breath as she guides Sidney to ice level so she can update the staff on the personnel switch.

Sidney is pretty sure it was, “ _You poor bastard_.”

***

It was definitely _poor bastard_ , Sidney thinks later, just as Evgeni Malkin ambles into the penalty box. Again.

“Sidney Crosby!” he says cheerfully, sitting down too close and breaking into a pleased grin at Sidney’s eye roll and the stern press of his lips.

“Malkin,” Sidney replies, and not even Malkin’s weird, handsome face can distract from the eyesore that is his jersey.

Fucking Flyers.

Sidney doesn’t even know why he thinks the guy is so hot. Malkin is a Flyer, after all.

(But also tall and big and—fuck, okay. Sidney maybe has a type. Shut up.)

“You seem oddly pleased for a guy who’s serving his third penalty, _in a row_ ,” he says sternly, because Malkin taking a penalty is hardly unusual, but three in a row is excessive even for him. It’s his fifth overall. If Sidney had been his captain, he’d have reamed him out on the bench already.

But Sid is not his captain, not even his teammate, and would be pleased at Malkin giving the Penguins so many power plays if he’d been out of his stupid cast and back on the ice where he belongs. He sighs, despondent.

Next to him, Malkin shrugs his shoulders. “Is little bit not good,” he concedes, and sneaks a glance at Sidney, sly. “But not every game I get such a pretty penalty box attendant. Have to take advantage.”

“Shut up!” Sidney hisses, acutely aware of the fans sitting close to them, just behind the glass. He pretends (badly) that his face isn’t burning with embarrassment while Malkin laughs loudly, so fucking cheerful it makes Sidney’s jaw clench.

He hates him.

“Is true!” Malkin insists, and the worst part, the part that catches Sidney’s breath as much as he’d like to deny it, is that Malkin seems sincere under all of the bluster.

(Malkin means it as much now as he did before, years earlier, after that stupid night in Vegas when Sid had been drunk on expensive champagne and high on all his trophies. When he’d fallen against Malkin’s chest in a club he’d been dragged to by fucking Ryan Getzlaf and Corey Perry of all people, and looked up at Malkin’s stupid face and felt Malkin’s huge hands on his hips as Sidney said, “You wanna?” The eager, strangled sound Malkin had made in reply is honestly one of the most gratifying sounds Sid has ever heard ever.)

“Get out,” Sidney snaps at Malkin, more vicious than necessary when the Penguins take advantage of the power play and get one back. Malkin doesn’t look particularly worried; the Flyers are still up by three. “And don’t take any more penalties,” Sidney adds for good measure. He’s had enough Flyers in his box tonight. Christ.

Malkin winks at him on his way onto the ice. “Make no promise,” he tells Sidney, and his smile has no business looking so soft and gentle. He is in Penguins territory, dammit! He and Sidney are not friends.

“Not when such pretty penalty box attendant,” Malkin continues, unrepentant.

Sidney sputters uselessly, and Malkin gives him another wink and blows him a kiss before stepping onto the ice. He scores on his next shift, a filthy, nasty goal that steals Sidney’s breath from right out of his chest. Bastard.

Malkin looks at Sidney as he celebrates, pointing to him as if asking, _Did you see? Was for you._

Sidney glares at him, and if it wasn’t for the cameras, he’d flip him off, and then does when the game is over and the Pens have lost 5-2 and Malkin is lingering on the ice for the express purpose of helping Sidney as he makes his way across the ice towards the tunnel.

“Thank you,” Sidney says grudgingly when they’ve made it across, because navigating crutches on ice is hell and Malkin really was very helpful.

“Welcome.” Malkin grins, and then puckers his lips hopefully. “Give me reward for good deed? Kiss, maybe?”

Sidney’s face blooms red and he doesn’t feel at all guilty for using his left crutch to trip Malkin up before turning to stalk down the tunnel as fast as he’s physically able.

Behind him, Malkin is laughing. “See you soon, Sidney Crosby!”

***

When Sidney gets home that night, Alexa delights in showing him a replay of Evgeni Malkin blowing him a kiss in the penalty box and Sidney’s stunned, wide-eyed reaction to it. The clip has a million views already.

(Sidney hates him so much.)


	159. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 1)

Who’s gonna write me the fic where Geno is a Flyer and only ever chirps Sid in Russian? Like, every time the Pens play against the Flyers, Geno will whisper at him during faceoffs, taunt him when Geno scores a goal or coo at him when Sid does—and it’s driving him crazy, right? And even if he is amazing at hockey (which Sid will admit only over his dead, cold body), Malkin is a bit of a douche and a bully. Sidney tries to ignore him mostly, but the thing is, the Russian? Yeah, Malkin does it only with him. Sid has lost count of how many times Malkin has chirped at Nealer as he skates past, calling him lazy or ‘the real deal’, a mocking smirk firmly in place.

So Malkin obviously knows how to speak English, only he doesn’t with Sid. Not ever.

It’s driving Sidney up the wall.

Not even Giroux manages to get under Sid’s skin as easily as Malkin does.

Sidney, because he is a practical guy, decides it’s the Russian. It’s the not knowing what he’s saying, is all. He already speaks French, so Giroux’s chirps never bother him, but the Russian…the Russian is throwing him off.

He decides to learn Russian.

Gonch goes quiet on the phone, incredulous, when Sid calls to ask him for advice on how to go about learning the language, but after muttering a few choice words under his breath, dutifully recommends a private tutor.

Sidney thanks him solemnly.

It takes him a few years—Sid is a busy guy after all—and a few more meetings with the Flyers before he realises that he’s starting to understand what Malkin is saying.

It’s…not at all what he was expecting.

For so long, Sidney has thought Malkin has been chirping him viciously, calling him names and such in the name of the Penguins/Flyers rivalry, and while he _has_ been calling Sid names, it’s not any of the one’s he’s been imagining.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Malkin says right before the ref drops the puck for the opening faceoff. “Let’s see who can score the most goals.” The only reason Malkin wins the draw is because Sid is too stunned to move for a second.

It’s a fluke, Sid thinks. An inside joke that makes sense only to Malkin, probably.

Whatever it is, Sidney shouldn’t care. He has a game to focus on here.

It’s hard to concentrate, though, when it keeps happening.

Malkin gets the Flyers on the board first with a steal in the neutral zone, barreling past Tanger and Paulie as if they’re not even there. He dekes around Flower for a filthy, gorgeous goal, and when he skates by Sidney for his usual taunts his words are sweet. Gentle, even.

“Sorry, love,” he tells Sidney, brushing up against him in a way that Sidney would have thought threatening even just their previous game, but now, confusingly, seems to be an attempt at comforting him. “I have a job to do too. Try to keep up, da? Show the world why we call you best.”

Sidney has to turn his back to him to hide his frown. He doesn’t understand what game Malkin is playing.

They’re only halfway through the second period and already Malkin has called him a number of pet names, his voice affectionate, Sidney realises now, when he tells Sid how good he looks, how pretty, how amazed by his talent Malkin is.

And then, when Sid goes top shelf on a breakaway, tying the game on a backhand late in the third, Malkin’s reaction makes heat rise in his cheeks and has him ducking his head so his vizor hides his blush.

“Fucking hell,” Malkin is saying, and he sounds awed, is the thing. Reverent. “That goal was fucking disgusting. Shit, your backhand, sweetheart, gets me so hot every time. Makes me want to bend you over the nearest surface and—”

The Flyers’ bench has called a timeout, but Malkin is still turned towards Sid, telling him all the things he wants to do to him, how good he wants to make Sidney feel, how hopelessly in love with him he is.

Sidney gasps, his head snapping up.

Malkin freezes mid-word. He stares at Sid, eyes widening in shocked surprise as the seconds tick by.

“You understand me!” he says and points an accusing finger at Sid. He makes to move closer, but Tanger and Horny, who have been just off to the side, keeping a close eye on the proceedings, are suddenly between them, pushing Malkin away from Sid.

“Back off!” Tanger growls at him, which, predictably, is the start of a massive scrum as Giroux and Voracek notice what’s going on.

It takes no less than three players sent off the ice with game misconducts before the refs regain control of the game, and the Penguins win it with just four seconds left on the clock from an unlikely shot from Scuds, trickling off Sid’s skate and into the net.

They review it, of course, but it’s ruled a good goal. It’s Sid’s second of the night and he should be happy, he should be thrilled—he’s glad they won, he is, but he’s so distracted, mind firmly on Malkin as he goes through his media obligation on auto pilot.

A reporter asks what happened between him and Malkin to start the scrum, and Sidney clams up. He shakes his head firmly.

“That’s between us. It’s just how it is sometimes. Things can get emotional out there, but that’s just hockey.”

He refuses to say anything more about it, not even to his teammates when they badger him about it during their post-game celebration.

He lets Flower and Duper buy him a shot each in honour of his two goals, downs them both and then stays for a beer before he deems it enough. He begs off, citing a headache, and while they grumble about him being an old man, they let him leave without too much trouble.

He gets in a cab, the address he gives the driver not his own but one relayed to him by Talbo—not a Flyer anymore, but still friends with a few of the players. Still able to get Sidney the info he need. And Sid knows he shouldn’t, but he has questions, lots of them, and there is only one person who can answer.

“This is a stupid idea,” he whispers to himself when he enters the hotel, steadfastly avoiding the receptionist’s eyes as he strides across the lobby towards the elevator.

They’re in Pittsburgh, and there is no way the woman doesn’t know who he is or the team currently staying in the hotel, but Sidney prays she’ll be discreet.

“Such a stupid idea,” he repeats when he’s standing outside the door to Malkin’s room. He checks his phone just to be sure he has the right room number, and while there’s always an element of uncertainty with Talbo, he wouldn’t prank him about this. Not when Sid had explained.

Before he can change his mind, Sidney raises his hand and knocks gently on the door.

He waits, shifting impatiently on his feet for Malkin to make an appearance. Sidney is beginning to think that maybe Talbo had given him the wrong number after all when the door pulls open.

He doesn’t know who is more surprised, him or Malkin.

“I—you—you said you’re in love with me,” Sidney stutters when Malkin only stares at him.

Malkin continues staring, gaping a little in surprise. He looks ridiculous, Sidney thinks, and hates himself a little for being so intrigued by him, by what he wants to do to Sid.

Finally, Malkin sighs, weary. “Come in,” he says, in English. His voice is heavily accented. “Should have talk.”

He angles his body to make space for Sidney to walk through, holding the door open in invitation.

Sidney shifts his eyes from Malkin to the room behind him. He licks his lips unconsciously when he sees the rumpled sheets on the huge bed, and when he looks back at Malkin, his eyes are locked on Sid’s lips, his gaze dark and intent.

Sidney swallows. “Okay,” he says, and enters.


	160. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired:
> 
> In the flyers AU what happens when the teammates find out???

The Pens don’t find out for a little while, I don’t think. Sidney is all about privacy and making sure people focus on his hockey rather than his personal life. His teammates, especially the guys he’s close with, can definitely tell that something is up, that he seems happier these days, but they figure Sid will tell them when he’s ready.

He always does.

And besides, if things starts looking shady, Flower and Duper will do a little investigating and get to the bottom of things.

No, it’s Giroux who finds out first. He takes it about as well as you’d expect, which, you know, is not very well at all.

See the thing is, Geno? Does not know the meaning of subtlety. He can keep a secret well enough, but he’s shit at hiding his emotions.

Claude knows he’s gotten laid the second he shows up for breakfast, late as usual and with a huge, obvious hickey just to the side of the hollow of his throat.

Claude is pretty sure the deep v-neck he’s wearing was chosen specifically to show off the mark.

“You _fucker_ ,” he says when Geno takes a seat next to Jake, opposite himself. “You fucking got laid last night. Who the hell would even fuck you? We’re in fucking _Pittsburgh_.”

Claude doesn’t quite manage to suppress his disgusted wince. Fucking Pittsburgh, man.

Fucking Crosby.

Geno smirks, more of a smug leer than anything. “I’m best. Everyone want fuck me. Even _Crosby_ want fuck me.”

Jake snorts disbelievingly at this, and Claude rolls his eyes, reaching for a bread roll and launching it at Geno’s big head.

There had been something about the way Geno had looked, though. Not just smug. He’d been pleased, Claude thinks when they’re on the plane back home to Philly.

Even Crosby would fuck him, he’d said, and the thing is, Geno has not been all that subtle about his crush. Claude and Jake figured out about the raging boner he’s been nursing for Crosby years ago. And while they don’t approve (seriously, fucking Crosby), they’re team. They’ve got his back.

Geno had been ansty as hell yesterday, more rattled by a loss than Claude has seen him in a long time. It didn’t help that they were in Pittsburgh, put more guys than just Geno on edge, but then he’d gone and gotten laid and—

_Even Crosby…_

“That son of a bitch!”

Claude is not prepared to deal with this shit.


	161. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theladyscribe inquired: can you tell us more about flyer geno and what happens when some of the pens find out? or how sid gets out of the hotel without any of the flyers seeing him?

Ah, but see, Sidney didn’t have to sneak out without any of the Flyers seeing him because, well, because Geno didn’t let him leave, not until the Flyers are checked out, anyway.

He tries, you see, but Zhenya really is quite mulish, and yesterday was crazy and spontaneous and everything he’s wanted for years, and Zhenya isn’t ready to give Sidney up just yet. He’s been in love with him for so long, dreamt of him time and again, and now that’s he’s had a taste of him, it’s not nearly enough. It’s just not.

Zhenya is playing for keeps.

Sidney just doesn’t know it yet—but he will.

He watches Sidney sleep, dragging his fingers over the slope of his naked ass to the dip of his spine. He smiles when Sidney huffs out a breath.

He doesn’t know how long he stays propped up on the bed, just watching Sidney, petting him because he can and because Sidney is letting him.

Zhenya would have guessed him to be a morning person. A man so dominated by routines doesn’t seem like the type to sleep in, but Sidney looks perfectly content where he lies, smacking his lips and mumbling out game plays now and then.

Zhenya can’t help his startled laugh when Sidney suddenly sucks in a breath and says, perfectly audible, “Are you fucking kidding me? That was a fucking good goal! The puck was over the fucking line!”

He has a bit of a potty mouth, his Sidney.

Zhenya leans down and presses a kiss against Sidney’s bare shoulder. “What’s the call, sweetheart?”

He’s teasing, not really expecting an answer, but then Sidney mumbles, “Inconclusive,” and Geno remembers.

Sidney speaks Russian now, apparently. That’s how they ended up in a Pittsburgh hotel room in the first place.

Before he can think more on it, there is a loud knock on his door. Zhenya winces at the disruption to the quiet of the room.

“Geno! Get your ass moving! We’re having breakfast before leaving.”

It’s Simmer; like Zhenya, he is perpetually late, and if he’s already up then it must be later than he had thought. Shit.

He’s checking his watch and cursing under his breath when Sidney starts to stir. Zhenya watches him, fascinated; Sidney wakes in stages, back to smacking his lips and scrunching up his nose in annoyance. “Wha—”

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Sidney blinks his eyes open, staring uncomprehendingly when he catches sight of Zhenya. “Malkin!” He scrambles on the bed and tries to get purchase on his knees, but he keeps slipping on the sheets, trying to cover himself and turning on the mattress until he’s all tangled up in the covers.

Zhenya lifts his brows at him.

Sidney flushes. He finally gives up on the covers and flops down on the bed. “Hi,” he says and sound only a little bit sheepish.

“Okay? Still panic?”

“Maybe a little,” Sidney admits. They stare at each other long enough for the silence to become awkward.

Zhenya frowns. This isn’t how he wanted this to go. There is so much he wants to say, but Sidney’s eyes are wide for all that he seems to have calmed a little, and Zhenya doesn’t want to spook him, doesn’t want to scare him away.

He’s racking his brain, searching for something to say when Sidney sighs and untangles himself from the covers, less worried about his nudity now as he gets to his feet.

“I should go. Last night was, well.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have come here, it was—”

“A mistake?” Zhenya bites out. He has to clench his fists against a sudden flare of angry resentment.

Sidney looks at him evenly, his face blank. Geno can’t read him at all.

“Impulsive,” Sidney says. He sighs. “Look, Malkin—”

“Geno.” Zhenya smiles, mean and ugly. “Should call me Geno. Is what you call last night.” He feels something twist in his stomach when Sidney’s jaw ticks, his eyes narrowing as an angry red spreads across the sharp cut of his cheeks. He looks lovely.

“Geno,” Sidney spits out, and he’s angry now too, his nostrils flaring with it, and that—Zhenya feels the fight leave him. This isn’t what he wants, to fight with the man he loves, even if he doesn’t love him back—yet.

He holds out his hands in a show of peace, shuffling awkwardly across the mattress until he can climb to his feet before Sidney.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, reaching out slowly, giving Sidney plenty of time to pull away. He doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” Zhenya says again, and encircles his fingers around Sidney’s wrist. He draws him close and Sidney goes, neither of them caring about their nudity.

Zhenya dares to bend his head, pressing his face into the crook of Sidney’s neck, breathing him in deep. He kisses him there, grinning when Sidney lets out a startled gasp.

He’s not sure Sidney is entirely aware of the way he’s pressing further into Zhenya’s hold.

“I have temper,” Zhenya whispers against his skin. “Mama always say have to fix, or get me in trouble.”

“Your mom sounds like a real smart lady.”

Zhenya pulls back. “She is,” he says, and then, “don’t go. Please.” He lets go of one of Sidney’s wrists to lift his hand to his cheek instead, stroking gently over the skin. Sidney sighs, closing his eyes at the touch.

“Have to go eat with team, but please, wait here for me. Call room service and get cleaned up, but wait for me to come back. Have talk before I leave, да? I—please. Stay.”

Sidney furrows his brows, but he’s nodding, and when he opens his eyes they’re clear. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

Zhenya grins.


	162. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 4)

The irony, of course, is that Zhenya was always supposed to be a Penguin.

This is a point that Philly fans _love_ to bring up; Pittsburgh drafted Evgeni Malkin, and then traded him to the Flyers for a sorely needed defenceman and a first and fourth-round draft pick before he’d ever even played a single NHL game.

It is ubiquitously agreed that the Flyers robbed Pittsburgh _blind_.

Zhenya admits there is some resentment there. The team that drafted him had had no faith that he could be a difference maker, a game changer. They hadn’t believed in him enough to even give him a chance.

It had hurt. Zhenya is man enough to admit that.

He was supposed to play with the best player in the world, with _Sidney Crosby_ , and then he wasn’t.

Sometimes, he thinks that’s what hurt the most, because Zhenya’s heart has always been too big for his chest, always cared more than he needs to or more than he should—he thinks, with the luxury of having Sid stretched out on top of him for his pre-game nap, that this is why he fell in love so quickly.

(It was love at first sight, really. Zhenya wonders if Sidney even remembers it. If he remembers the lost Russian boy he’d helped back to their shared hotel on a late December day in 2004.)

Sidney mutters in his sleep, another game play, and Zhenya hums softly, soothing him as he strokes his hand over the span of his back in comfort.

They don’t get a lot of time for just the two of them, not with the sneaking around and the living in two separate cities; Zhenya hoards his time with Sid jealously, thinks the forty-five minute flight from Philly to Pittsburgh is a small sacrifice to get to be with Sidney whenever their schedules allow.

He likes those days. When it’s just the two of them, hidden away from the world like they’re the only ones who matter. It’s like being in a bubble, safe and warm, and these are the times when Sidney is the most relaxed, when he lets Zhenya pull him close and laughs loudly at his lousy jokes.

Zhenya has never loved anyone like this before, feels as if he could burst from it sometimes. He’s pretty sure Sidney is getting there too, that Zhenya can actually tell him without Sid spooking and deciding it’s too much, too soon. Without him deciding it’s better to end it before he gets in too deep. Before Zhenya gets a chance to hurt him.

It’s a slow process, but Sid is getting there. Zhenya can tell by the way he has started to seek Zhenya out now too, by how he’s begun incorporating Zhenya into his routines whenever they play each other—no small thing, he knows.

Sidney mumbles in his sleep again. He buries his face against Zhenya’s chest and puffs out a sigh before settling.

Zhenya chuckles, hearing him complain about Claude’s shenanigans behind the play. Sidney’s dreams are extremely vivid, he’s come to learn.

“Should get two-minute misconduct,” he advises, and figures getting his own teammate a penalty (even if it’s just dream Claude) is worth it for the way Sid sighs happily and burrows more firmly into Zhenya’s hold.


	163. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> swingsetindecember inquired:
> 
> in the geno is a flyers fic, imagine now giroux and crosby playing at the worlds

Oh man, now I can’t stop imagining it, because the thing is, Giroux knows, right? I mean, maybe he doesn’t exactly know that the two are in a relationship or that Sid reciprocates Geno’s feelings, but he definitely knows about that one hook up—and Geno isn’t exactly subtle. Claude is smart enough to realise that something is going on between them.

So when they find out that Crosby is joining the rest of Team Canada in Vienna, just about everyone except Claude is excited about it, and no one more than Segs, who will. not. shut. up. about. it.

“But it’s _Crosby_ , G! _Crosby_!” he keeps saying, reverent. “He’s a national icon. A national _treasure_! I’m pretty sure it’s our duty as Canadians to worship the ground he walks on.”

Claude sneers in disgust. Jesus. Segs looks just about ready to foam at the mouth, staring dreamily at nothing. Claude just knows he’s think up ways on how to ‘worship’ Crosby. Fucking hell.

He shakes his head as he looks away from Segs. Honestly, Claude can’t see the appeal at all. Sure, objectively, Crosby is as decent looking as the next guy (nowhere near Claude’s level of hotness, of course), but he doesn’t get why people keep throwing themselves at him. _Merde._

Geno, because he’s a freak who actually likes Crosby (and also because he has a google alert on him), calls Claude under the pretence of checking up on him. Honestly. As if Claude can’t tell what he’s doing. It pains him to know that his alternate fails so spectacularly at being a Flyer. (Where had they gone wrong with that boy?)

“So, Crosby there yet? Must be weird, da? To get to play with him,” Geno says eventually, finally getting to the point of his call. He sounds wistful, the freak.

“He’s all right. He can skate, I’ll give him that.”

Geno makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Claude grins. He knows Geno wants to protest that, wants to say, “Sidney Crosby best,” (honestly, _such_ a _freak_ ), but he can’t, not without letting something slip.

As if Claude doesn’t already know that Geno thinks Crosby is the greatest thing to ever happen to hockey.

“Segs thinks he’s awesome. He’s already started planning their future kids’ names.”

He snickers when Geno sputters at that, holding the phone away from his mouth so Geno won’t hear him. God, he’s so easy. “Anyway, how’s your ankle? You ready to play?” he asks.

Geno grumbles unhappily. “Coach won’t let me play first game. Is bullshit. Ankle is fine.”

“Uh huh.” Hockey players a stubborn, and Geno more so than most, but Claude knows exactly what to say to keep Geno from doing something stupid. “Crosby was saying just this morning how reckless it is to play with an injury. Says that players should be smarter than that.”

He rolls his eyes. Claude is honestly so fucking disgusted to know that’s gonna work.

Sure enough, Geno goes quiet over the phone, thoughtful before he says, “Guess I should listen to coach. Should know best.”

Claude rolls his eyes again ( _such a freak_ ), but he hums agreeably. Why does he even put up with this shit?

It’s going to be a long three weeks.


	164. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tropdangereuse inquired:
> 
> God, I freaking love your Geno is a flyer verse. It makes me squee. I love how Geno is trying to be loyal to the Flyers, his open resentment that the Penguins didn’t have faith in him, but he still has this unceasing and unwavering affection for Sid. He’s the very best, and Geno just wants to sing it to the mountain and it kills him that he can’t even sing it to Sidney without being afraid of how Sidney will react.

Thank you! And your reading of Geno is absolutely spot on! It’s hard being in love and having your feelings reciprocated but knowing you can’t really do anything about it yet—because Sidney is a little like a deer in headlights, right? One jolt is all he needs to take off running.

Navigating their relationship takes skill and finesse, and by the time they all make it to Europe for Worlds, they’ve only been together for three months. Not even that, really. Three months is nothing, comparatively, but in that time Zhenya has come to learn what he can and cannot do when it comes to showing Sidney affection.

Pet names, more often in Russian than not, are okay. Touch too (especially naked touching), but any time Zhenya opens his mouth to declare his love, Sidney gets this look in his eyes, as if he’s bracing himself for a blow, and Zhenya just can’t. He has no idea what has happened in his life to make Sidney so terrified of commitment, of hearing those three little words Zhenya wants to say desperately. All he knows is that he’s not about to feed the fear. He’s not giving Sidney a reason to run.

Zhenya is in it for the long haul; he’ll tear through Sidney’s defences eventually—except, the thing is, Zhenya doesn’t need to break down the walls, not really. The more time they spend together, the longer they stay a couple, Sidney is letting those walls fall all by himself.

So while things have been tentative, slow, they’ve also been good. _Really_ good. They have a system that works, a detailed schedule in place for phone calls and Skype dates and actual meetings that carries them through the hardship of a long-distance relationship.

Being in Europe, though, is different.

Zhenya had been so excited to learn that Sid was gonna join his teammates in Vienna after the Penguins’ playoff exit. They hadn’t even gotten to talk before a Google alert notified him of the news. In all of the excitement, Zhenya never got around to thinking about group divisions or game scheduling before they started playing and Zhenya was stuck in Ostrava while Sid was in Prague.

He’s a lot pissed about that. Fucking IIHF scheduling.

He’s complaining to Claude about it over Skype when he notices Sid in the background. Zhenya had assumed Claude was still in his room, but as his ire calms down at the sight of his boyfriend, Zhenya thinks Claude might actually be in the hotel lobby.

He has to hold back his laugh as he watches Sid in the background, grinning at the way he is trying to appear casual; Sidney is ambling around awkwardly, trying not to be too obvious when he sneaks glances at Claude’s tablet.

God, his boyfriend is such a dork. Zhenya loves him a lot.

He’s missed him; it’s the first time he’s gotten a chance to see Sid in real time these last couple of weeks, and even if it is through a screen, the sight of him takes away some of the terrible ache Zhenya gets from being away from him.

“Is that Crosby?” Zhenya asks, playing at indifference and probably doing a terrible job of it if Claude’s half-aborted snort is anything to go by.

“Yeah. He overheard me saying I was going to the lobby to Skype with you and decided it’d be a good time to call his mom. So he came with. Imagine that.”

Zhenya winces a little at the heavy sarcasm. He’s about to make a very bad mama’s boy joke when he manages to look away from Sid’s pacing figure to Claude, noticing the shrewd, knowing look in his friend’s eyes.

He freezes.

Surely, Claude doesn’t know?

No, that’s impossible. Sid and Zhenya have been _so_ careful. They’ve been sneaking around for months, already pros at this secret relationship thing. There’s no way Claude knows anythi—

“Hey, Croz,” Claude yells over his shoulder. He beckons for Sidney to come closer.

Zhenya frowns in confusion. What the hell is he doing?

“Uhm,” Sidney says, but he does walk over. His hands are firmly in his little pockets (Zhenya will never understand why all of Sid’s jeans have such tiny pockets), and he looks so adorably awkward that Zhenya wishes he could kiss the look right off his face—and more.

Zhenya momentarily forgets about Claude when his eyes meet Sidney’s through the screen. The silence drags, long enough for Claude to clear his throat pointedly, rolling his eyes all the while.

“Such a freak,” Zhenya can hear him whisper under his breath. He blinks. What?

“I have to piss real quick,” Claude tells them, standing from his seat and practically forcing Sid into it instead. “Keep Geno entertained until I get back, yes?”

He leaves before either of them can put up much of a protest (not that Zhenya would have, obviously), and he’s pretty sure he can hear Claude muttering to himself—something about being too good for them all.

Zhenya has no idea what all that’s about, but it’s not as though he’s about to complain, not when he’s suddenly left alone with his boyfriend for a few rare, precious minutes.

“Hey, Geno.” Sidney sighs out his name, smiling at him softly. He looks a little shy, a little embarrassed.

He looks happy. (Beautiful.)

Zhenya grins.


	165. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired:
> 
> What happens next in the Geno-is-a-Flyer (you’re right, that orange would not look good on him) verse? Do they start meeting up halfway between Philly and Pittsburgh? Does someone (the media, their teammates) find out and they become the Romeo and Juliet of the hockey world? At least until Geno inevitably gets traded to Pittsburgh…

Because Claude has the worst luck (the worst, seriously, what the fuck?), and because Geno is horrible at both lying and subtlety, all it takes is one reporter asking about Sidney Crosby and off Geno goes, waxing poetics about Crosby’s hockey (perfect), Crosby’s skill (best), Crosby’s determination (unparalleled), and Crosby himself (beautiful).

Claude supposes something could have gotten lost in translation; Geno is Russian after all, the reporter is Czech, and the article is in English.

But no. Geno, the fucking idiot, actually did call Croz beautiful.

Geno didn’t even notice, just kept on talking, but the reported did. Oh, did she ever.

Honestly, how is Claude supposed to help his alternate keep his secret relationship _secret_ , if the man keeps making starry eyes at his boyfriend for the whole damn world to see?

It’s like he wants to get caught; Geno has only been in Prague for a little more than a day, but Claude has already seen him sneaking in and out of Croz’s room more times than Claude ever needed to know, to be honest, and if Claude has seen him then surely someone else has too and–

Son of a bitch.

Geno wants to get caught. He absolutely does, the _freak_.

Croz, though, is a different story. Claude has gotten to know him somewhat over these last couple of weeks, and maybe, just maybe, he can sort of see why Geno is so gone on him.

The thing is though, as dedicated and committed as he is to hockey (and even Claude can’t fault him there), Croz is a flight risk when it comes to, uh, matters of the heart, Claude supposes.

The mushy stuff. Whatever.

So when the article comes out on the day of the semi finals, appropriately titled _An International Love Affair?_ , Crosby takes one look at it and goes a little wild around the eyes.

Across the table from Croz, Segs slowly inches his hand over to remove the butter knife from his reach. “Crazy eyes,” Segs whispers a little fearfully. His gaze is fixed on Croz, maybe wary of any sudden movements, but his head is tilted in Claude’s direction. “Those are crazy eyes,” he tells Claude.

They really are. Claude doesn’t think he’s ever seen Croz so freaked out before.

It’s a bit disconcerting, to be honest.

Claude, because he’s a better captain than Geno deserves (and fuck if he’s ever letting him forget it), does the only thing he can think off to keep Croz from bolting and breaking Geno’s heart.

He kisses Croz smack on the mouth on live television, in front of God and 17,000 spectators – and Geno, whose murderous glare he can feel even from the VIP box.

Claude gets a black eye for his troubles, courtesy of his seething alternate, but at least the media is talking about something other than Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin’s star-crossed love affair.

Claude deems it a job well done, all things considered. Especially as they win the game against the Czech and Segs decides that Croz’s kisses must be some kind of good luck charm.

The ensuing ritual of all their teammates kissing Croz before they step out onto the rink for the gold medal game is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to Claude.

(He’s still laughing about it when the new season starts up.)


	166. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tropdangereuse inquired:
> 
> OMG GENO WANTS TO GET CAUGHT. OMG I’M DYING. NO. NO! GENO YOU HAVE TO LET SIDNEY COME /SLOWLY/ TO YOUR HAND!!!! HE’S VERY MUCH A WILD SKITTISH DEER THAT IS GOING TO BOLT INTO THE COVER OF PENGUINS!FOLIAGE IF YOU MOVE TOO QUICKLY AND TOO DECISIVELY!! PLAY THE LONG GAME G, DON’T GET SHORTSIGHTED BY TRYING TO SEAL THE DEAL TOO SOON!

He knows Sidney isn’t ready to go public with this thing, isn’t even ready to tell his friends and family, but Zhenya got caught up in being in Europe, in being in Europe with Sid and then being in the same city as Sid.

It feels a little like a weekend getaway, with how much Sid and Zhenya are sneaking around, stealing kisses and trading rushed handjobs in semi public places, because Sidney is shy, yes, but he’s also a little kinky, Zhenya has come to learn.

(It was a pleasant discovery.)

He’s running late to an interview when everything goes wrong, a little scatterbrained and sex dumb because Sid has just blown him not five minutes ago and he’s the best; his boyfriend is amazing and Zhenya really just wants the world to know it too, and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t, it just slips out.

The reporter asks him about Sid and Zhenya goes all soft and gooey inside. Suddenly he’s calling Sidney perfect and beautiful, and he can’t stop himself because it’s all so very true and maybe, just maybe, there’s a little voice in the back of his head egging him on, and that’s the problem isn’t it?

Because that voice is telling him that he’s not doing anything wrong, that he’s respecting Sidney’s wishes and not revealing their relationship like he wants to so badly, but if someone was to guess that would be different. If someone were to find out then it’s out of Zhenya’s control, and Sidney can’t blame him for that, surely?

Sidney wouldn’t run, would he?

Except the article comes out the next day and Zhenya’s phone blows up; everyone and their mother wants to talk about their secret love affair.

_Fuck._

Zhenya messed up. He messed up so bad. Sid isn’t answering his phone, and when he goes to see him–

Zhenya will never forget the look in his eyes. He looks terrified.

He looks terrified, and it’s Zhenya’s fault. Zhenya did that.

He doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t know how to make this better, and then, suddenly, he doesn’t have to.

Claude fixes it for him. In a roundabout way that makes Zhenya’s blood roar with rage and jealousy. His hands clenches into tight fists, aching to drive them into Claude’s face, because how dare he? How dare he kiss Sid like that?

Punching Claude only makes him feel a little better. He doesn’t even have an excuse for it, just hits forward with his right arm, putting his back into it – he is so furious, so pissed at him. Why was he kissing Sid in the first place, why–

“For you, you fucking idiot!” Claude yells at him. He’s gingerly prodding at his left eye, wincing in pain when he pushes too hard.

Zhenya sneers. Good.

“What do you mean? Do for me?”

Claude sends him a scathing look. Zhenya knows it well; it’s the look he gets when they play against the Penguins. Against _Sid_.

“I know, okay? I know about you and Croz. And you, you fucking idiot, you dumb fuck! You almost messed it up.”

Zhenya stumbles back a step, he’s so surprised. “What?” he manages to croak out. His voice comes out all high and strangled. “You, you know?”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Yes, I fucking know. Frankly, I’m surprised no one else does too. You’re so fucking obvious.”

Zhenya ignores him. “You know,” he says again, more to himself than anything else. “How you– No,” he cuts himself off. “So you know. Then why you kiss Sid? And on live television! Now everyone thinks you’re together!”

“That’s the point, Geno!” Claude says, looking more exasperated than Zhenya has ever seen him before. “If they’re talking about us, then they’re not talking about _you_ , d’accord?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s better for everyone. Better for _Croz_.” He looks at Zhenya pointedly.

Sid. Fuck. Yeah, okay. Sid _had_ looked a little better after the game. The tension in his shoulders easing, the tightness around his eyes disappearing as the press made a huge deal about Sid and Claude’s chemistry, only half-serious when they asked if it extended to off the ice.

_(”I don’t know about that,” Sidney says, his lips pulling into a lopsided grin. “I think Claude maybe got a little excited there. It was a good win.”_

_“Is he a good kisser?”_

_Suddenly Seguin is there. He throws his arm around Sidney’s shoulder, winking at the camera as he says, “We don’t kiss and tell.”_

_Sidney laughs.)_

“You don’t even like Sid,” Zhenya says dumbly, and that’s the first time he has referred to his boyfriend by his name in front of Claude. In front of anyone. It feels good, despite everything. “Why you help us like that?”

Claude sighs. He mumbles something under his breath, too low for Zhenya to make out.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m invested now! Okay? I’m fucking invested, so don’t you dare screw this up, because I’ve been putting a lot of work into covering for you, and if that’s all been for nothing, I swear to God, Geno, I’ll be so pissed. You don’t even know.”

Zhenya blinks at him, at the way Claude won’t meet his eyes, at the way he’s glaring stubbornly at the ground instead.

“Okay,” he says finally. “ Okay. I won’t screw this up.”

And he won’t.


	167. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arrghigiveup replied to your post:
> 
> oh my god they are genius. you are genius. EVERYONE wants to kiss Sid (not that I blame them; those lips were meant to be kissed =D)

… let me tell you what happens after Russia beats out the US 4-0, by which time the media are focusing less on the star-crossed love between two Pennsylvania rivals and more on the sudden attraction of one Sidney Crosby, and Claude Giroux’s inexplicable black eye.

Claude is like Fort Knox when it comes to his shiner, won’t even tell Segs who he pissed off to deserve the bruise (it’s Claude; they’re all pretty sure it was well deserved), but he’s smirking when reporters hound him down before the gold medal game, sly and knowing as he answers their questions about _The Kiss_.

He tells them it had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, that they had won the game; surely that meant it must have been some kind of good luck.

His grin is downright shark-like when his eyes slant towards where Sidney is answering his own slew of questions, and Sid can feel the exasperation he’s come to associate with Claude even before he opens his mouth and says, “Segs and I are pretty sure Croz is a little bit magic. We’re all giving him a kiss before the game tonight.”

Claude’s grin widens, and Sid closes his eyes briefly, praying for strength when Claude finishes with, “For good luck, of course.”

 _Of course_ , Sid sees one of the reporters mouth when he opens his eyes again. Her face is a mask of incredulity, and Sidney offers her a smile, wincing inwardly at how strained it must be.

“What do you think about that, Sidney?” one of the American reporters ask, the glint in his eyes telling Sid it doesn’t really matter what he says now; the guy already has his angle planned out.

“I think I’ll borrow Segs’ line; we don’t kiss and tell.”

He gets the laughs he is looking for, and is relieved to wrap up his media scrum soon after, never so glad to have a game to prepare for.

He feels off, though, wrong footed, spends longer than usual to get into the right mindset before a big game like this – and the worst part is that he knows exactly what’s wrong but has no idea how to fix it and damn Geno. _Damn him_. He’d known Sidney wasn’t ready, he’d known and still–

(Sidney hasn’t even talked to him after that stupid article came out. Hasn’t talked to him at all since Sid had been down on his knees for him, Geno bending to pepper sweet kisses all over Sid’s face before Geno had to run out for his interview, leaving Sidney behind with a smile on his face and the taste of Geno’s come still on his tongue.)

“You ready, Croz?”

Sidney blinks and looks up from his stall to see Burnsie grinning down at him, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Sid feels the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, the familiar buzz of _hockey_ humming in his veins. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good shit, man! Let’s get you that triple gold, eh?” Burnsie says and then reaches out, grabbing Sidney’s face between his big hands before promptly planting one on him.

Sidney is so startled he bursts out laughing. He doesn’t even get a chance to respond before Ebs and Hallsy are there, leaning down to steal their own respective kisses. They leave to follow Burnsie out onto the ice, Hallsy turning to wink at Sid over his shoulder.

“Oh, ho!” Segs exclaims. He sounds delighted. “We’re really doing this? This is a thing that is happening?” he asks, and Sidney doesn’t even get to shake his head ‘no’ before Segs is pulling him to his feet. He wraps his arms around Sid’s waist and pulls him in close, the kiss he plants on him more than a little filthy.

The locker room is suspiciously silent all of a sudden, and then Sidney can hear Nate say, “That’s my childhood hero. Tyler Seguin is making out with my childhood hero right now.” He sounds a little faint.

When Segs finally pulls back, Sidney has to reach behind with his hands to steady himself against his cubby and resolves to never, _never_ tell Geno about this.

(Sidney might be pissed at him right now, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about him; Sid knows his boyfriend well, and he is a jealous bastard. He’s legitimately afraid Geno will end up in jail on homicide charges if he finds out Tyler Seguin and Tyler Seguin’s tongue had been all over him.)

Claude is next, apparently, grinning at Sid and telling him, “This is hilarious to me, I hope you know,” before giving Sidney a loud smack on the mouth and yes, it would appear as if this _is_ a thing – even Nate and Matty get in on it, Matty grinning wide and good natured, while Nate blushes a bright red as he pecks Sidney on the lips for what is maybe the chastest kiss he’s had in all his twenty-seven years.

It’s all in good fun.

And maybe it _does_ feel a little bit like magic, even before Sidney is getting into position for the first puck drop, even before they’re up an impossible 6-0 until Russia manages to get one in, the puck trickling behind the goal line off Geno’s stick.

Geno, who is playing so well, for nothing it seems like, because it’s one of those nights when Canada is just doing everything right, when they’re all in synch and all just a little bit magic.

They win, they were always going to win, and Sidney feels so good with it, is high off adrenaline and the rush of _winning_ and _hockey_ and _Canada._

It simmers in his blood, his veins thrumming, and it feels as if Sidney will never stop smiling he’s so happy right now – he’s so happy, ecstatic, really, and then Geno is there in the handshake line and Sidney freezes.

He looks wrecked, is the thing. His face is drawn and his eyes shine with heavy disappointment and Sid doesn’t know what to do here, he doesn’t know–

“It’s okay,” Geno whispers, low enough for no one else to hear. He dips his head a little, mustering up a frail little smile, for Sidney, for him, because even now Geno loves him. “I’m so happy for you, Sid. You deserve so much. Is good.”

Sidney’s elated grin slips off his face the longer he stares at him. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to make this better. All he can do is wrap his arms around Geno for a brief but heartfelt hug, wishing with all his might that Geno understands, that he feels the words Sidney can’t say aloud, yet.

_I love you._

Someone takes a picture of them like that, and the next day, it’s all over the Internet; it’s all anyone can talk about.

(Claude takes one look at it and starts swearing as though someone had taken a key to his favourite car. Sidney has no idea what that is about.)


	168. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 10)

Tyler enters the dressing room more than a little buzzed and with a gold medal around his neck.

He feels hot; giddy with the thrill of winning and the alcohol and the memory of being on his knees before Sid, drinking from the Cup.

He wants to celebrate in the best way. In the naked, half-drunk, deliriously happy kind of way that means he gets to have great sex with an awesome buddy and have that be all it is.

He wants Sid, he thinks, with his pretty cock and prettier ass and the plush lips Tyler can still remember feeling on his own.

He’s getting turned on just by thinking about it, and his eyes seek out Sidney’s form in the room as he tries to come up with a way to broach the subject, to invite Sid for a quickie without offending him.

He’s staring, he knows, but he’s not expecting anyone to call him out on it; they’re all a little weird about Sid and about what he means to the team, to Canada, and to them personally.

Sidney, with his intimidating everything. Beautiful and glorious and generous – and Tyler has heard the rumours from the 2010 Olympics. He really, really hopes they’re true, because he would love to get all up on that.

“Don’t even think about it,” a voice says in his ear, too low for anyone else to overhear.

Tyler starts. He snaps his head to the side, glaring accusingly at Claude.

“What the fuck, man?” he says. “You scared the living shit out of me.”

Claude isn’t looking at him, his eyes trained on where Sid is undressing, pulling his under armour down over the generous swell of his ass.

(Tyler spares a second to be jealous. He’s going to be featured in the nude on ESPN’s Body Issue soon; Tyler’s ass does not look nearly as good.)

“I know you,” Claude says. “I know how you like to celebrate. Keep Croz out of it.” He shifts his gaze to Tyler, his eyes narrowed in… warning?

Is Claude glaring at him right now? On behalf of Sid?

“What the fuck?” Tyler says again. It’s for a completely different reason, now, though, because he is honestly so very confused by a Claude Giroux who’s displaying protective tendencies towards one Sidney Crosby.

He’s also a little insulted that Claude thinks Sid needs protecting. From Tyler.

“I’m serious, Segs. Find someone else to get you off.” Claude gives him a last warning glare before ambling off into the showers, naked but for the towel slung over his shoulder and the white, backwards-turned cap on his head.

Tyler stares after him, bemused.

His eyes find Sid again. He too is naked now, trailing into the showers after Claude. Tyler watches him go, his eyes dipped lower than they should, probably, and he sighs regretfully.

If it had been anyone else, Tyler would have laughed in their face and told them to fuck off before going after Sid, but he knows better than to fuck with Claude and his special brand of crazy.

Tyler would very much like to avoid ending up on the front page news. Or worse, jail.

He can’t let it go, though. The memory of staring up at Sid’s hooded, dark eyes while Tyler had been on his knees for him is seared into his brain. He keeps thinking about it, about what it would be like to be on his knees for him in a different way.

His fantasies get more and more filthy as the night wears on, at the club, watching Sidney’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes, dancing terribly with an equally awkward Nate on the dance floor; as they’re winding down the celebrations in Ebs and Hallsy’s hotel room, still consuming large enough quantities of alcohol that Tyler feels totally justified in slipping out after Sid when he excuses himself for the night, retreating to his own room, the one he has just for himself.

Perks of being team captain.

Tyler is only a few seconds behind him, snickering quietly to himself at Sid who is too drunk to notice Tyler following him as he staggers down the hotel corridor towards his room at the end of the hall.

It’s going to be great, Tyler thinks. He’ll give him a scare just to be a jerk, they’ll laugh it out, and then there will be actual jerking off, he hopes.

He’s catching up to him, helped by Sid’s fumbling with his key card outside his room when suddenly the door is opening from the other side and Tyler stops up short.

_What the hell?_

“Geno!” Sid says, startled. His accent is thicker than usual, his vowels falling loosely off his tongue. “You’re here!” He pauses, taking a moment to frown in confusion as he tilts his head to the side, looking up at where Malkin is leaning against the door frame, a blank mask on his face.

“ _How_ did you get here? Inside my room, I mean.”

“Hotel receptionist is half Russian,” Malkin says, as if that makes perfect sense, which, yeah, it pretty much does.

Tyler very, very carefully steps to the side, pressing himself as closely to the wall as he can in an effort not to be seen. Not that he thinks there’s a danger of it; Sid and Malkin are totally wrapped up in each other.

“I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me tonight,” Sid says, and Tyler watches, wide-eyed as finally Malkin’s expression softens, some kind of unknown, raw emotion flittering across his face as he reaches out with two huge hands, cradling Sid’s face between his palms.

“Always want see you.”

Tyler blinks.

Son of a bitch, he thinks. Claude knows.

He must. It would explain why he’d warned him off Sid. And he’s Malkin’s teammate, Tyler remembers, even if it is weird that Claude, of all people, would know about Sidney Crosby’s secret love affair.

And holy shit! The media had been right!

Sid and Malkin really are a couple – and Claude knows.

So many things from the last couple of days suddenly makes sense to him now: Claude kissing Sid, the black eye he wouldn’t talk about. Even earlier that day, ‘protecting’ Sid from Tyler.

It’s all been an effort to hide Sid and Malkin’s relationship.

“I love you,” Sid is saying, and Tyler shakes his head, focusing back on the couple in front of him. He’s missed parts of their conversation, he realises.

“I know I’ve never said that before, and I’m not saying it because we won today. This is not some kind of consolation prize. I just, you know.” Sidney shrugs, his cheeks blushing a furious red, but he’s smiling adoringly up at Malkin, looking at him in a way no one has ever looked at Tyler before.

“I love you.”

Malkin lights up, beaming as if he’s just won the lottery. He draws Sid to him, exploding into a flurry of Russian before kissing Sidney’s mouth, his cheeks, his lids, and Tyler can’t bear to watch anymore.

He’s intruding on something private and intimate. Something special – and it’s not for him to witness.

He retreats without either of them noticing.

The next day, when the newspaper makes the round during team breakfast, Claude takes one look at the front page of the sport section before he starts swearing up a storm in French.

Across from him, Sid looks down at the paper before frowning up at Claude in confusion, his eyebrows lifted in question, as if to say, what?

Tyler grabs the paper out of his hands so he can see for himself. He thinks, that poor bastard.

There’s no headline speculating over their secret love affair this time, but the picture of Sid wrapping his arms around a heartbroken-looking Evgeni Malkin is plenty incriminating on its own. No caption needed, really.

Tyler shakes his head in sympathy.

Claude really has his work cut out for him with those two.


	169. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 11)

Losing the gold medal game sucks in more ways than one. Not just because they lose to Canada, and to Claude – and fucking hell, his captain is going to be a complete troll next season. More than usual, even. Fuck.

Losing also means Zhenya doesn’t get to see Sid until October again—maybe September if he can be convinced—which would have happened anyway, but would have hurt less if Russia had won.

That’s what he tells himself.

(The lie never makes him feel any better.)

Zhenya has never been in a relationship where he gets to be with his partner during the season before, or for a measure of it, anyway. He’s so used to spending his summers back in Russia with his Russian lovers—he’s been spoiled, he realises. Because the busy schedule of hockey has kept him from getting a chance to really miss his lovers when he’s been in a relationship, but summer offers no such distractions.

It should.

He has all this time now. No hockey or other obligations to dictate where he goes or where he stays, and Zhenya should be loving that, should be jet setting all over Europe with his friends, but— 

He can’t share any of it with his boyfriend, because the media is still speculating about whether or not they are an actual couple, and it’s freaking Sidney out. Even if the media weren’t actively looking to catch the two of them in compromising positions, Sidney still wouldn’t have spent his summer with him, because of course Sidney Crosby does have hockey and other obligations to dictate where he goes and where he stays. Sidney has always been generous with his time like that.

He has Nate MacKinnon too.

(Fucking Nate MacKinnon.)

Zhenya tries to keep busy. He hangs out with friends, goes through his usual summer routine of meeting family and distant relatives and ends up in all sorts of baffling situations.

(He’s made to milk a mechanised cow on a TV-show, and when he tells Sidney about it on the phone later, Zhenya smiles, helplessly fond, as Sidney laughs and laughs and laughs.

Zhenya knows he’s in love by how endearing he finds the ridiculous sound.)

Sidney, meanwhile, is travelling all around North America, with Nate Mackinnon, working out and getting a tan and attending weddings and growing a beard.

“You’re growing a beard,” Zhenya says when they Skype sometime in early July. “Why you grow a beard?”

“You don’t like it? Nate says it looks good.”

Zhenya bristles, watching as Sidney strokes a hand over his scruff, looking thoughtful.

“Should I get rid of it, you think? I just wanted to try something new this summer. It felt like time for a change, you know?”

“I’m like very much. I’m like most,” Zhenya says defiantly. He doesn’t, but he’s sure as hell not going to let his boyfriend’s grooming habits be influenced by the oh-so-helpful input of Nate MacKinnon.

And besides, he can see that Sidney really is pleased by the dark patches of hair. God help him.

“You look pretty,” Zhenya says, because that will never not be true, even with the scruffy beard. Maybe it will fill in eventually. That, at least, would make it look better, Zhenya thinks. Probably.

Sidney blushes. “Men aren’t pretty,” he says, as he always does when Zhenya starts waxing poetics about how lovely he is—mostly just to see Sidney flush a dark, dark red, but also because Zhenya really is that sappy.

“You are,” he insists, smiling when he watches Sidney’s blush deepen. He takes pity on him, though, and asks about the wedding he’ll be attending later that day.

He’s not going to be at the actual ceremony, Sidney explains, which is why he has yet to get dressed.

“You even have pants that fit?” Zhenya teases, truly appreciating the view of Sidney bent over at the waist, rooting around in his sock drawer in clear view of the webcam. He’s clad only in his boxers, the material stretched obnoxiously taut over his big ass. God, but Zhenya misses that ass.

“Shut up,” Sidney says, looking over his shoulder to glare at Zhenya. “It’s not that big.”

It is, but Zhenya is kind enough not to push the issue.

“And yes, I do have pants that fit.”

“Because you get custom made!” Zhenya snickers, as if he doesn’t have to go to the trouble himself more often than not.

“I’m logging off if you’re going to be a jerk,” Sidney says, and has done so enough times before that Zhenya knows it’s not an empty threat.

“Okay, okay.” He laughs. “I’m stop now.” He watches as Sidney straightens with a fresh pair of socks in his hands; they’re striped black and blue because Sidney doesn’t believe in white socks.

Zhenya watches as Sidney puts them on and settle back in front of the computer. Sidney smiled at him softly. He looks wistful. “I miss you,” Sidney says, looking at him so warmly Zhenya feels his breath catch in his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to do the press thing in New York this year? They’d love to have you.”

Zhenya snorts, and says nothing about how he’s planning to make the trip anyway. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Don’t need me when big star Sidney Crosby be there.” He pokes his tongue out to show he’s teasing. “No, not need to,” he goes on, shrugging carelessly. “Claude be there. Too soon to see captain.”

Sidney shakes his head. “I don’t get you two at all. You’re teammates. And friends, right? But I’ve never heard either of you say something nice about the other.”

“Ha! Claude not nice!”

“Yes, I think so,” Sidney says, exasperated. “Used to think so,” he corrects with a grimace at Zhenya’s pointed look. “But you’re his teammate.”

Zhenya grumbles under his breath, not willing to admit that a lot of his ire stems from the kiss Claude had planted on Sidney, on live television. He’d essentially done it as a favour to Zhenya, but still. He’d rather Claude had kept his hands to himself.

Sidney sighs softly. “Fine. Keep your secrets. See if I care.” He’s smiling, so Zhenya doesn’t think he’s nearly as annoyed as he tries to appear to be.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Sidney’s phone beeping, and Sid glances at it, cursing at whatever it is he sees there.

“Shit! It’s this late already?” He looks back at Zhenya, sighing regretfully. “I gotta go, babe. Nate is picking me up in ten minutes and I’m not even dressed.”

Zhenya scowls. “MacKinnon going too?”

“Yes, of course,” Sidney says matter of factly, as if this shouldn’t even be put into question.

Zhenya’s scowls deepen.

He doesn’t even get a proper goodbye before Sidney is spewing out apologies and promises to call him soon before he’s logging off, disappearing from Zhenya’s screen as though he’d never been there in the first place.

Zhenya curses.

Fucking Nate MacKinnon. 


	170. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous inquired:
> 
> Surprisingly really enjoying flyer!geno verse *feels dirty* the sad part is that the bit that requires the biggest suspension of disbelief is the Pens beating the Flyers at home *sobs* would definitely love to see how Sid’s teammates react when he eventually comes clean!

Surprisingly, Ian is the first one to figure it out.

Maybe it’s because he’s new to the team, a trade deadline acquisition, fresh eyes and all that. Whatever it is, Ian takes one look at the way Malkin circles Sid on the ice, Sid’s cheeks going a little red from whatever it is he’s saying, before he turns to Kris and says, “Whoa, I thought Sid didn’t like anyone on their team. How long have they’ve been fucking?”

Kris misses a step and chokes on his own spit.

He keeps an eye on the two of them throughout the game, trying to see what Ian had seen.

By the time they’re crawling to an end of the third, the Penguins are trailing 4-1 and Kris has convinced himself that Ian is wrong. He’s new, it’s his first time playing in Philly in a Penguins’ jersey; he doesn’t know their deal, is probably on edge from the heckling of the Philly crowd. Kris will just have to tell him he’s way off base, that there is nothing going on between Sid and—

The time runs out on the clock, the horn blowing to signal the end of the game and another loss, and for a second, so brief Kris thinks for a moment he must have imagined it, Malkin is bending his head close to Sid’s ear, saying something that has Sid giving him this small thing of a smile, all sad and brave and _holy shit on a cracker._

Sid is fucking Malkin.

Ian was fucking right.

“No way,” Flower says, after, with Kris and Pascal holed up in his hotel room. They’re sharing tiny bottles of shitty hotel alcohol, and between the three of them, it’s not nearly enough to get drunk on.

Kris really, really wants to get drunk.

“I know what I saw, man. I’m telling you, Sid is not only doing the nasty with fucking Malkin of all people, _merde_ , but I’m pretty sure he has feelings for him.”

“Fuck off, Kris. You were imagining things. Ian got into your head and—”

Kris cuts Pascal off before he can cast any more aspersions against Kris’, frankly, superb observational skills. “I know what I saw,” he repeats firmly.

Pascal opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Flower is shushing at them both, scrambling off the bed and scurrying over to the door.

Kris lifts his brows at him, mouthing out, _what?_ , as Flower peeks through the peephole of the door.

“It’s Sid,” Flower hisses out. “He’s with Malkin,” he adds, and that’s all Kris and Pascal need to join him by the door. Kris presses in next to Flower, and Pascal falls to his knees by their feet, pressing an ear against the door.

They listen intently, Kris holding his breath to make out the words they’re saying. It’s Sid’s voice, no doubt about that (his room is directly opposite Flower’s), but—

Kris’ eyes flutter in surprise. Sid is speaking Russian.

“What the hell?”

He looks down, meeting Pascal’s gaze. He looks as baffled as Kris feels.

“When the hell did Sid start speaking Russian?” Pascal demands, but Flower shushes him again because suddenly the words on the other side of the door are making sense.

“You didn’t have to follow me back, you know. What if someone sees you?”

“Don’t care. Won’t get to see you for couple weeks. I’m miss you. Have to remember how you look.”

Sid laughs at that, and he sounds so impossibly fond Kris pushes Flower out of the way so he can see through the peephole himself.

He ignores Flower’s muffled protest, feeling his eyes grow wide when he sees Sidney wrapping his arms around Malkin’s neck, pushing up onto his toes before pressing a kiss to his mouth.

It’s quick and chaste, but familiar, the kind of kiss Kris shares with Catherine all the time, and yeah, Sid definitely has feelings for this guy.

“Mes amis,” he whispers regretfully, falling back from the door to let Flower retake his place. “I think we’re going to have to learn how to make nice with a Flyer.”

The disgusted look on Pascal’s face is a fairly accurate reflection of how Kris feels about that.

Sometimes, Kris despairs of his captain.





	171. Sid/Geno - In which Geno is a Flyer (Right Kind of Wrong Part 13)

Zhenya used to get booed a lot in Pittsburgh, the fans gleeful and a little vicious, more so than for any other team the Penguins play. Even Sanja and the Caps.

He still gets booed, some jerk starting a litany of “Malkin sucks!” that will pick up now and then, but not anyway near how bad it used to be. Not even in the playoffs.

Zhenya doesn’t think the fans’ sudden respite has to do with him. He thinks it has very little to do with him at all. Rather, it’s because of Sid.

Zhenya and his teammates can rag about the Penguins’ fanbase for a lot of things, but in this they can’t fault them:

Yinzers love their captain.

And Zhenya does too.

That doesn’t make it better, the Penguins beating them out in five. It’s not quite a sweep, but it might as well have been. Five games. _Five_. That’s all they’d manage to put up against a Penguins team that is rolling.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the game. The end of Zhenya’s season.

He watches from the visitors’ bench as the Penguins swarm the ice, crowding the rookie goalie who shut the door after Lovejoy put in the lone goal of the game. It’d been a freak bounce off of Simmer’s skate in the middle of the third, after Zhenya turned the puck over. To Sid. Somehow, that makes it worse, makes it sting just a little bit more.

It’s an awful wound, made all the worse because it’s not a visible one. It’s inside of him, gnawing at him, turning him inside out and and scraping him raw. The kind of damage that never really goes away, never quite heals over.

Not by time or anything else.

Consol is rocking, as loud as Zhenya has ever heard it, and all he can think about is how his season is over, another year too soon, another year without the Cup.

Another year where he’s come up short.

He’s always coming up short. Good but never best. Not like Sid.

It’s a year later but everything is the same.

Someone clamps a heavy hand down on his shoulder. “Come on,” Claude says. He gives Zhenya a gentle shove forward. “Neuvi kept us in this. Let’s go show him some love before the handshake line.”

Zhenya doesn’t feel like shaking the hands of the guys that knocked them out, doesn’t want to see the smiles on their faces, doesn’t want to hear the false platitudes.

_Good game, man._

It wasn’t. If it had been a good game Zhenya would have managed to put up a goal, just one to even it out. But he hadn’t. And it hadn’t been a good game. Not by him.

_It’s over, it’s over, it’s—_

Neuvi had a good game, and he, at least, deserves better. Their goalie gave them every chance to win. It’s not Neuvi’s fault they couldn’t make it happen. He deserves Zhenya’s respect.

“Next year,” is what Neuvi says when Zhenya tells him how well he did, how sorry he is they couldn’t get him the win.

“Next year,” Zhenya agrees, even if he doesn’t believe that, not now. Maybe not ever. But there’s nothing else to say, nothing to make it better. “Next year, for sure.”

Neuvi gives him a solid nod and leads the way to centre ice.

In a move that is so obviously orchestrated by both teams that Zhenya has to shake his head at their lack of subtlety, he ends up at the back of the line, shaking hand after hand until only one more remains.

And, _oh_ , Zhenya thinks when he’s suddenly staring at Sid.

Sid who is looking more miserable than Zhenya feels, eyes shrouded and shoulders hunched, as if waiting for a blow, and that—

Maybe their teammates aren’t so dumb after all, because being at the end of the line means that the cameras have mostly moved on. Zhenya thinks, _fuck it,_ and closes his arms around Sid, his weight sagging against him, and instead of being broadcast on national television, only the fans in the stands bear witness to the moment, private but not.

“I’m not sorry,” Sid whispers into his neck. “I’m not. I won’t be sorry about this.” _About winning, about moving closer, about getting a chance at the Cup._

Zhenya knows and he… He doesn’t want that either. He doesn’t want for Sid to pity him, to apologise for his success. He never has before, and Zhenya is not about to make him start now.

“I know,” is all he says. He wants to say _just give me time_. He wants to say _It’s okay, I’ll be fine_. He doesn’t; it would only be a lie.

The crowd is oddly patient as they wait out Sid and Zhenya on centre ice, as they wait for their team to salute them.

Last year, Sid wouldn’t have done this. He would never have let outsiders see this side of him. Last year no one knew about them.

This year everyone does. It’s the worst kept secret in the NHL.

Sid breaks their embrace, reluctant. “We should probably—” He makes an awkward gesture. He still looks uncertain, though not quite as devastated as before, as if he was afraid Zhenya hated him now, wouldn’t want to be with him.

He is wrong. Zhenya could never hate Sid.

Only himself. Always himself.

“Come back to mine? Later?”

Zhenya wants to say no, wants to say he should be with his team—they both should. He’s hurting, though, and Sid can’t make that stop, can’t soothe it away, but he can make it better, just being with him.

Zhenya would rather be miserable with him than miserable alone.

“Okay. You go out with team first. Celebrate. I’m wait for you at home.” 

Sid gives him a smile at that. He shifts on his feet, as if he wants to step closer again. “Okay, I’ll see you at home. I love you,” he says before skating away, and Zhenya does too, leaving the ice, and the Penguins, behind.

He makes sure not to look back over his shoulder.

This is Sid’s time, and Zhenya is not going to ruin that for him.

 _My time will come_ , he tells himself, but doesn’t quite believe it. Not now.

Maybe not ever.


	172. Sid/Geno - AU, career injury, baker!Sid, Penguins!Geno (Perry's Corner)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> book23worm inquired: "first meeting!AU: Person A (who is single) works in a bakery. Person B comes in to order something for their significant other for Valentine’s Day. It’s a pre-Valentines because Person B won’t be around for the actual day. Person A+B hit it off and A is sad that B is taken. Next day (or whatever) B returns to the bakery because the significant other has cheated on them. A takes it upon themself to cheer B. MAGIC meet cute stay up all night make out watch the sun come up happens:) Pretty please!?"
> 
> Lol, my tired eyes read Person A as Perron at first, and I go, hm, David Perron as the single worker of a bakery - to which my brain jumped to David Perron as the owner of a bakery/café where Sid is his praised baker (his cheesecakes are, naturally, a particular favourite among the locals). Also, this turned out more as a second first meeting, and maybe not quite like you expected, but hey, I just follow the plotbunnies where they go.

It’s a small, but popular café. Sid has worked at _Perry’s Corner_ for what seems like ages. He was only nineteen when he migrated south from Cole Harbour, settling in Pittsburgh of all places. Or maybe it’s not so surprising when he thinks about it. Pittsburgh had been the city to draft him after all—before the car crash that destroyed his chances at a NHL career. Furious with the world and his circumstances, Sid left home with no clue where he was going or even what he wanted to do now that life as he knew it was over.

Sidney spent a year in a haze of rage and bitter resentment, and it was Perry Sr. who saved him. He’d given a home and a future to a lost and angry teen, given him hope where there had only been empty hollowness for so long. Sidney was forever grateful to him, and he could spend a lifetime trying to pay him back and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Which is why he’s still sticking around, he thinks, even though Perry Sr. passed a couple of years ago, and his son David is now the owner of the café. David, as much as Sidney thinks he’s a good guy, has no head for business and absolutely no interest in baked goods beyond eating them. It makes for some interesting arguments.

“Sid!” David says when he walks into the café that morning, late as always.

Sid is behind the glass displays, helping Jenna arrange the cupcakes he finished earlier, and they share a look of exasperated fondness.

“Perry,” Sid greets calmly, because he’s a little shit, and he knows David hates the nickname.

David grimaces, muttering under his breath in French. _Such an ugly nickname_ , he’s saying, _why would anyone shorten Perron to Perry?_

Sid has to hold back his snickers, knowing better than to remind David that he speaks the language. David will only spend the rest of the day chirping at him in fast-paced French.

“What can I do for you, Perry?”

“I’ve just received a last-minute Valentine’s order. It’s a very important client, Sid, you need to bring your A game.” David lifts his hand and starts ticking off his fingers. “We need cupcakes, cookies, an assortment of chocolates, the whole nine yards.” He pauses, looking a little sheepish as he says, “Oh, and it needs to be ready by tonight.”

“Tonight!” Sid exclaims, and scowls when Jenna sends him a pitying look. Hah, shows what she knows. If David is serious about this, Sid is going to need her help. They’ll probably have to call in the other part-time workers as well. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, Perry. It’s going to be hell getting everything ready in time. I don’t have the time for an extra order, much less a big one like that. There’s no way!”

David shrugs. “I already said we’d do it.” In other words, Sid is going to have to do this whether he likes it or not.

_Son of a bitch._

“Fine,” he growls out, already reaching for the phone to call in Beau and Borts, “but you are going to owe me big time.”

Sid and his helpers spend a gruelling eleven hours getting everything done in time, with David manning the front during opening hours (God help them all), and when the clock is nearing eight pm, only Sid is left, waiting for David’s mystery V.I.P to pick up his emergency order.

David had told him the customer would be there at eight pm, but Sid is tired enough that he is honestly contemplating to just say _fuck it_ and leave already. He looks longingly at the door and then the large clock on the wall behind the cash register. Four minutes left. If this guy doesn’t show up at eight pm sharp, Sid will leave. Screw it, he really will.

There’s a knock on the door and Sid startles, turning back to the door to see a tall guy waving at him from behind the glass.

Holy shit, Sidney thinks, slowly moving to open the door. That’s Evgeni Malkin.

Sid is going to _kill_ David.

“Hi!” Malkin says when Sid has unlocked the door to let him in. He sucks in a deep breath, breaking into a wide smile at the smell of freshly baked goods, and he looks ridiculous like that, Sidney thinks. Not handsome at all. Not even a little bit.

“Smells so good!” Malkin enthuses. “Taste as good?” He’s looking at Sid with warm, brown eyes, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

He’s teasing. Sid is being chirped.

“I- uh- yes,” Sid manages to say. “I did the baking, so…” He shrugs. Sidney has never been one for false modesty.

Malkin’s grin widens. “You bake, so best?”

And _yes_ , that’s exactly it, but Sidney knows that sounds arrogant, even if it is true. Instead of answering, he walks over to the register, feeling Malkin’s eyes on him as he reaches for the pink box on the counter top. Sid has spent hours getting it ready. Whoever Malkin is sharing it with better appreciate it.

“Here’s your order. Everything is there, the cupcakes, the cookies, and the chocolate. There’s no nuts, so you don’t have to worry about allergies. David said something about—”

Sidney cuts off abruptly as he turns around. He gasps, surprised to find Malkin right there, so close the pink box in his hands is pushing against Malkin’s winter coat. He looks up, meeting Malkin’s eyes, and has to restrain himself from squirming under that gaze.

“I know you,” Malkin says, looking at Sidney more intently than anyone has bothered to in a while. He tilts his head a little, squinting his eyes as if the slight change in perspective will help him place Sidney in his memory.

It must help, because he straightens suddenly, losing the last of his cheerful demeanour. “Sidney Crosby.” He sounds a little _awed_ of all things, and this, this is a reminder of his past life Sid does not need.

“Sidney Crosby,” Malkin says again. “Best hockey player in the world.“

"Not anymore,” Sid snaps. “Not ever.” He’s rougher than he needs to when he shoves the pink box into Malkin’s hands. “You can settle the bill with David. Now please leave.”

Malkin takes the box and takes a step back, giving Sidney some space, but he doesn’t leave, nor does he seem inclined to. “Sorry,” he says, his voice gentling, as if speaking to a particularly flighty animal. “Always wonder what happen to you. Penguins draft you too, and I’m so happy, get to play with Sidney Crosby, but then nothing. No one know what happen to you, only that Sidney Crosby no longer wants to play hockey.”

Sidney looks away. He doesn’t owe Malkin an explanation; it was Sid’s right to keep the car crash secret, to hide from the glare of the media light, but the thing is, Sid remembers him. He was there when Malkin was drafted, remembers that one elevator ride, remembers a tall and gangly teenager with kind eyes and a cocky grin. _Geno. Can call Geno._

It had been the only words except from ‘yes’ and ‘no’ he’d spoken in English, and Sid would be a liar if he said he didn’t remember that thirty-second elevator ride.

“You should go.”

Malkin— _Geno—_ is silent for a while, but then he nods. He shifts the box in his hands, hefting it into the corner of one arm as the other hand reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a card, placing it gently on the counter. “If want to talk, you call my number anytime. We go out for drinks. Talk about Ovechkin’s grey hair.”

Sid releases a strangled laugh at that, and he’s still looking away, but he feels Geno’s presence as he hovers near him for a few seconds, the silence tense before he finally steps away.

“Goodnight, Sidney Crosby,” he hears Geno say as he strides across the room, opening the door before closing it gently behind him.

Sid finally turns to look, his eyes watching as Geno becomes smaller and smaller the further away he gets. He looks back at the counter, eyes landing on the small business card.

Sidney scowls at it. He reaches out, closing his fingers around it and leans over to throw the card into the waste bin by the register. Hockey was a part of his past, and that part of his life is over. Not even Geno Malkin can change that.

He’s determined to ignore the bizarre meeting as a one-off, but as Sidney closes the café and makes his way home, he can’t help but think about how Geno never said goodbye.

 _Goodnight_ , he’d said, as if expecting to see Sidney the next day.

Sidney doesn’t see him the next day, not that he really has time to think about it. It’s Valentine’s Day, and like any other holiday (even if Sid thinks V-Day is complete bullshit), Sidney is kept busy the entire day.

By the time it’s been a week, Sidney has almost convinced himself he’s over it, but then Jenna sticks her head into the kitchen, her eyes wide and starry-eyed when she says, “You will _not_ believe who is out here asking for you right now.”

Sid only spares her a brief glance, humming as he concentrates on finishing the piping of Mrs. Diaz’s son’s wedding cake. (It’s his third time getting married; Sid made the previous two cakes as well). “I don’t have time for a walk-in today, Jenna. I told you not to make any appointments before Monday.”

“Yeah, no. This isn’t a cake order,” Jenna says, and her voice sounds strange enough that Sid gives her a little more attention. “It’s _Evgeni Malkin_ ,” she says at Sidney’s arched brows. “Of the Pittsburgh Penguins,” she adds, as though it needs clarifying.

Sid blinks at her. “What?”

He walks out to the front, and there he is, casually looking over the goods Sid and Jenna put out just an hour ago.

It’s early enough that no one else is in the shop yet, much less David, who won’t come ambling in for another couple of hours, Sidney knows.

He looks up when Sidney makes a strangled noise, his face breaking into a huge grin when he sees him. “Sidney Crosby!” he says. “Remember me?” His tongue is poking out again. “I’m Evgeni Malkin, but you call me Geno.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Of course I remember you,” he says, and glances back at Jenna when she makes a high-pitched noise, looking from Sid to Geno like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

"What are you doing here?” he asks when he turns to look back at Geno.

He’s still wearing that shit-eating grin of his, eyeing Sidney with amusement. “This how you treat every customer?” he mock gasps, smirking when Sid rolls his eyes again. “Ask what they do here? Is no surprise, you know. Want good cupcake, and I’m know Sidney Crosby make best cupcake. So I’m come here.”

Sidney wants to say bullshit, but Geno is making an effort, for whatever reason. “It was a success then? The Valentine’s box. You enjoyed it? You and whoever you shared it with.”

Geno’s eyes goes dark for a moment, his lips thinning into a firm line. “I’m eat alone,” he says. “My Valentine find other Valentine to be with.”

It takes a second for Sidney to parse out what he means. He was cheated on, Sid thinks. What the hell? Why would anyone cheat on _Evgeni Malkin_. The guy had brought a third Cup to Pittsburgh; Sidney had yet to meet a Yinzer who wasn’t half in love with him.

“Oh,” he says, feeling a little stunned, and he turns to look helplessly at Jenna.

 _Offer him a freaking cupcake_ , she mouths, looking at Sidney more judgementally than he deserves, he thinks.

“Cupcakes!” he blurts out. “I made a new batch of cupcake earlier today. They’re red velvet. Really good. You’ll like them, I think.” He’s babbling, and Sidney feels like braining himself on the counter top, but when he dares to look at Geno, he’s staring back at Sidney with fascination.

He looks charmed.

Sidney takes a breath. Geno being here is poking at an old hurt, but Sidney _likes_ him, can’t help himself, and besides, the guy was just cheated on. The least Sid can do is offer him a free sample of his red-velvet cupcakes. They really are quite good.

“Would you like to taste? A cupcake,” he hurries to add on when Geno’s look turns leering, blatantly roving his eyes up and down Sidney’s body. Sid flushes heavily.

“Yes,” Geno says. He steps closer. “Would like to taste. Sidney Crosby best, yes?”

And, well.

Geno makes sure to compliment Sid on his cupcakes before he goes. “Have practice,” he says a little mournfully, so obviously regretful about leaving that Sidney can’t help his fond smile.

He comes back, though, the next day. And the day after that, and after that.

Actually, Geno keeps coming around until finally, he doesn’t have to, because Sidney sees him almost every day when he gets home from work.

(David, the lovable bastard, is incredibly smug about it.)


	173. Sid/Geno - Rocker!Geno, mute!Sid, penguins!Sid, AU (Nothing Without You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anxietyftw: YES! I have had this idea floating round my head after reading a list of au ideas yesterday. So one of them is mute and get pulled up on stage by the other (who is the lead singer of their favourite band) to sing with them and with out missing a beat the person that got pulled on stage starts to beautifully sign the song. Cause you know it’s his favourite band and just cause he can’t speak doesn’t mean he can’t sing along his own way. and then love forever. and maybe it’s such a hit that they get asked to join then band and sign all the songs and i don’t know stufffffffffff.

Sidney bobs his head as he listens to the voice crooning in his ears. He smiles at the lyrics, at the way the accented voice curls around the words and caresses them lovingly.

His mouth forms out the lyrics, and he loves them, loves listening to the words even if he can’t sound them out himself.

Someone plucks out one of the earbuds from his ear, and Sidney blinks, looking up to see Kuni smiling down at him.

“Hey. You done listening to lover boy yet? We’re ready to hit the ice.” He’s signing while he’s speaking; Kuni says it helps keeping him from forgetting the different signs. Most of his teammates are competent in basic ASL, and the guys who’ve been on the team for longer than a couple of years are deft signers. Kuni is undoubtedly one of the best, maybe even the best after Sid, and while most of the guys are content to speak without signing, “listening” to Sidney’s response in return, Kuni almost always signs. 

“ **Yeah, I’m ready _,_** _”_ Sid signs, and then wrinkles his nose, narrowing his eyes at Kuni. “ **And don’t call him lover boy.** ”

Kuni laughs. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

No, Sidney supposes, they don’t. He can’t imagine the Chicago crowd has all that much patience to wait for them. Neither will the Hawks; Sidney thinks Jonny might be the one person who is more intense about hockey than him.

And while that tends to make him a sore loser, a trait they share, he’s gracious in his team’s victory, finding Sid in the visitors’ locker after the media scrum, freshly showered, and looking smart in his well-cut suit.

“Hey,” he says, fingers clumsy and slow as he signs out a greeting. Sid smiles at him, nodding his head. He likes that Jonny makes the effort, even though he hates signing. Jonny is a perfectionist, but for all his slick stick handling, his fingers are awkward in their signing. Jonny doesn’t like it, though Sid finds his frustration hilarious.

“We’re still going to the concert together, right?

Sidney snorts. He makes sure Kuni can see him as he’s signing.

“Of course,” Kuni relays faithfully. “I’m not that poor of a loser.” He lifts his eyes to meet Sidney’s, his brows arching pointedly.

Sid scowls at his disbelief, and Jonny looks between them, snorting in amusement.

“Good,” Jonny says. “Lindsey and I’ll pick you up at your hotel at 5pm.” He frowns, one hand lifting to scratch awkwardly at his chin. “You’re not- You’re not the only one going, right?”

Sidney laughs silently, shaking his head as he signs.

“No, Tanger and Flower will go with me. Kuni wanted to, but Flower bullied him into getting his ticket,” Kuni says, answering like Sidney would if he could still talk. Sid doesn’t like it when people talk to him or talk for him in the third person, and Kuni knows it.

Kuni sighs, grumbling under his breath, “I seriously underestimated how badly Flower wanted to go.”

Sid wheezes in laughter at that, an ugly, stuttered sound, but one he’s become familiar with throughout the years.

Jonny shifts on his feet, looking a little surprised at the sound.

Sidney has been mute since he was fifteen, and it’s been a long time since he was really angry or awkward about the card he’s been dealt; hearing him laugh still makes people uncomfortable though, especially people he only sees rarely, because they think mute and imagine no sounds at all. But while Sidney can’t speak, he can still make some sounds.

“Okay, great. So we won’t need the interpreter?”

Sidney shakes his head. He’s the only guy in the NHL with such an obvious handicap, and while people had thought his future in the League disappeared along with his voice, Sidney had worked his ass off to prove them all wrong; his tenacity, hard work and unrivalled skill had forced the League to accommodate him.

Sidney had been drafted 1st overall to the Penguins in the ‘05 draft, a historic event, and the Commissioner had summarily provided an interpreter for media scrums and promotional events.

Sid got along well enough with Carly, but he preferred making due without her, relaying on his friends and teammates as long as they didn’t mind.

“No,” Kuni answers for him. “Carly will stay behind. Besides, I don’t think there were enough tickets.” He looks questioningly at Sid, and Sid nods his head in agreement.

“Okay,” Jonny says again. “5pm, then.”

Sid watches him leave, and then turns to look at Beau when he moans mournfully. “It’s so unfair. Why does he get to go, and I don’t? Couldn’t your boyfriend hook us up?”

Tanger cackles gleefully. “You’re too late, Sunshine. Should have thought to ask weeks ago.”

“I forgot! How am I to remember the date and place of every game we’re playing?”

“Sid does,” Flower speaks up, flicking Beau’s forehead as he walks past.

Sidney follows the exchange fondly, grinning wide when Beau mutters, “Sid’s the captain. He’s supposed to keep track of shit like that.”

He roots around his bag for his iPhone, opening the music app and putting the earbuds back into his ears, letting the comforting beat wash over him as he goes about his business.

It seems like no time at all before Jonny and his girlfriend picks them up outside their hotel, making the drive to the concert avenue.

“I’m so excited!” Lindsey says when they’re shuffling inside, showing their passes to the concert staff. “We tried getting tickets a few weeks ago, but they were just gone. Not even Jonny could make it happen.”

“I did make it happen!” Jonny protests to much laughter. “I got Sid to get us tickets, that’s me, making it happen.”

Sidney rolls his eyes, smiling wide as Tanger and Flower chirp at Jonny mercilessly.

He turns when someone places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Crosby,” a young woman says. Her hair is purple. “Mr. Malkin has invited you backstage. If you’ll come with me, Kevin here,” she says, looking at the guy next to here, “will guide your friends to their seats.”

Flower opens his mouth to protest, but Sidney grabs his arm, shaking his head. _“_ **I’ll be fine** ,” he signs after letting go of Flower. “ **Geno will take care of me _._** _”_

Flower nods reluctantly, and even Jonny looks a little sceptical, but they let Kevin lead the way while Sidney follows the woman–“Leah,” she explains her name is, signing easily all the while.

Sidney can’t help his smile at the obvious ease of her skill. He suspects Geno chose to dispatch her for that very reason.

“Sid!”

And there is the man himself, Sidney thinks, grinning huge and wide when Geno hurries forward, wrapping his long arms around Sid for a tight hug. He pulls back just enough to lean down for a succession of quick kisses. Sidney sighs against it, loving the increasingly familiar press of Geno’s lips against his.

They’ve only been dating for seven months, meeting in Pittsburgh during the summer when Geno and his band had been in town for a concert. Sidney had attended the show as a chaperone for Alexa and a group of her friends; she had yet to turn eighteen, and Mario refused to let her go alone. Sid had volunteered.

Sidney had expected to have a good time. He was a big fan of the band, could mouth out a fair amount of their songs by heart, but he’d never expected Geno to single him out from the crowd, pulling him onto the stage and letting Sidney sign along while he crooned out the lyrics to _I’m Nothing Without You_.

It had been a surreal experience, a fantastic one, Geno making sure to invite Sidney and the girls backstage after the show– _“_ Was love at first sight,” he’d tell anyone willing to listen, though he’d admit to Sidney later that he already knew who he was. That of the two of them, _Geno_ was the fan.

“Sorry about the game,” Geno tells him when they finally break apart, and Sidney shrugs. He’d rather have lost the game in overtime than a shootout, but it would have been a loss either way, and Sidney has long since familiarised himself with the sting of failure. He can do nothing about it now, though being with Geno helps.

“ **Good luck tonight** _,_ ” he signs, laughing a little at the cocky smirk on Geno’s face.

“Don’t need luck,” he claims, jutting his chin out haughtily, holding back his smile at Sidney’s helpless giggles. “I’m best.”

“Zhenya!” one of his band members calls out before breaking out into a flurry of Russian, too fast for Sidney to keep up with. Geno’s comprehension of ASL is far superior to Sidney’s Russian. “ _Zhenya!_ ”

It’s said impatiently, and Geno rolls his eyes, barking back a hurried response.

“Have to go on stage now,” he says, leaning down to steal another kiss. “You come see me after show, da?”

Sidney nods. He always does.

Smiling in satisfaction, Geno claims one more kiss before Kolya clamps his hand around his elbow, dragging him away to Geno’s sputtering and Sidney’s laugh.

He lets Leah guide him back to his friends, grinning when Lindsey screams with delight as the stage lights up and the band emerges. Even Jonny is getting into it when the first bars of the opening song begins playing.

“Good evening, Chicago!” Geno’s voice echoes inside the arena, the crowd screaming back at him with approval. “Tonight we have fun, yes?”

He’s grinning out at the crowd, his fingers strumming across the strings of his guitar, and Sidney feels his grin widen as he recognises the song.

He lifts his hands, signing along as what seems like the whole arena chorus together.

_Didn’t go far, couldn’t if I tried to._

_You are my song, the beat of my heart._

_Don’t you know, baby? Don’t you know this is true?_

_I’m nothing, I’m nothing Without You._


	174. Sid/Geno - Penguins!Geno, figure skater!Sid, 5 head canons

[_koramberlynne_](http://koramberlynne.tumblr.com/) _inquired:_ Five head canons, figure skater Sid.

* * *

1\. Sidney is probably one of the most famous figure skaters in the world. He is known for his technical skill, his natural talent, the ease with which he lands a Triple Axel, and dat ass.

2\. Probably his ass is more famous than his Triple Axel, tbh.

3\. Mario knows Sid through Wayne Gretzky, who knew him from his hockey-playing days, before he decided to pursue a career in figure skating above all else. This is how Sid agrees to come to Pittsburgh, as a favour to Wayne as a favour to Mario. Sid is very good at what he does; he goes to Pittsburgh to help the Pens’ skating coach develop a better program for rehabilitating purposes. They want to increase the speed and effectiveness of a player’s skating ability when coming back from injury.

4\. Evgeni Malkin, returning from a broken foot, is their test subject.

5\. Evgeni Malkin, returning from a broken foot, has a massive crush on Sidney. He hangs on to Sid’s every word, follows him around like a duckling, and pulls on Sid’s metaphorical pigtails at every opportunity to keep his attention on him. It’s hilarious for everyone involved except Geno, who is being stonewalled at every turn, and Sid, who has no clue that Geno would get all up on him if Sid only gave him the go ahead.

\+ 1. Sid gives him the go ahead.

* * *

[ _northisnotup_](http://northisnotup.tumblr.com/) _inquired:_ ‘i’m yelling to my friend about how attractive this celebrity is and then plot twist you’re the celebrity and in front of me wtf’ au

* * *

ahaha! I am setting this in the [figure skater!Sid](http://hazel-3017.tumblr.com/post/117636861606/five-head-canons-figure-skater-sid) verse!

1\. Zhenya is not at all paying attention to his surroundings when he starts waxing poetics about Sidney Crosby’s ass. He’s in public, but he’s not worried about anyone overhearing, on the phone as he is, talking to his brother in his native language.

2\. He is in the middle of a detailed description of a narrow waist tapering off into the glorious swell of the most perfect ass Zhenya has seen in his entire life when suddenly the very ass he is describing is in front of him.

3\. Probably Sid would be very creeped out to learn that Zhenya can recognise him from his ass alone.

4\. Because he has no self control, Zhenya blurts out, “Sid! Why you here?” only to watch as Sidney jerks up from where he’s been digging into his bag, spinning around to find Zhenya gaping up at him incredulously.

He startles, blinking furiously as he stares back at Zhenya.

“Geno!” he says. He seems to lose his surprise after only a second, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Zhenya. “Shouldn’t you be in Pittsburgh? Does Max and Mike know you’re here?”

Here being Newark, Zhenya’s layover on his way to Montréal to join the rest of his team.

He snorts. “Kadarov push me out the door,” he tattles, and while it hadn’t been quite as dramatic, Mike and Max had finally acknowledged that Zhenya’s foot was good to go–his skating much improved with the help of Sidney’s expertise.

(Not for the first time, Zhenya wishes Sidney could have stayed longer in Pittsburgh, that he’d been there for the entirety of Zhenya’s rehabilitation. He’d liked to have Sid to himself a little longer. He’d like to keep Sid, forever, maybe.)

“I’m join team in Montréal,” he explains at Sid’s sceptical look. “Ready to play. Been out too long.” He has too. Zhenya would have played on his broken foot if they’d only let him.

Sidney hums, his eyes dipping, lightning quick, to Zhenya’s lips, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks when Zhenya catches his eyes.

“Well then,” he says.

5\. They’re on the same flight.


	175. Sid/Geno - Post-retirement, broken up, secret relationship, angst

Do you ever think they’ll make _Sidney Crosby the Movie_ , and the movie is really good; great actors, great chemistry, excellent camera work and all that. And then after, people will not stop talking about the true story of the film: the Sid and Geno romance.

Sid just has no idea what’s going on. He (very grudgingly) gave them permission to make the film, and he had people he trusted working on it to make sure they recounted his life faithfully. He’d even been a little flattered they cast that young superstar to play him, but yeah, Sid was never going to see the actual film. It was his life. He already knew how it’d play out, start to finish.

No, Sidney is perfectly content to ignore the whole thing, spending his time working with the Pens organisation to develop more youth hockey programs now that he’s retired. He’s a relatively young guy, still a year from forty, but the wound of his forced retirement is too fresh to spend it in the front offices or with the team. Sidney needs distance, and he loves the kids. Besides, the job keeps him busy, distracted.

He’s fine. Perfectly fine. He really is. He has his friends, talks with his family all the time, he keeps busy. Everything is fine, until that stupid movie is released.

Sid had gotten some flack from the media for failing to show up at the premiere, but whatever. They knew he was a private man, and he no longer had any obligations to them. He was allowed to blow them off. It’s rare that Sidney reads his own press anyway, and for a while Sidney has no idea the amount of exposure and attention the film is getting, and of course, by extension, he himself.

It’s Flower who clues him in.

“You know,” he says when he catches Sid at the rink after all the kids have dispersed for the day. “I figured you’d stop putting in all that extra work after practice, but here you are, still working on your slap shot even though you’re retired.”

Even just a few weeks ago, Sidney would have winced at that. _Retired_. But he’s getting better, he knows the reality of his situation, so he says, “Yeah, well. Nothing wrong with my hands, now, is there?”

Flower eyes him silently for a moment. “No. No, there is not.”

“What’s up, Flower? Were we supposed to meet today? I didn’t forget did I?”

“No,” Flower says, chuckling. “Do I have to have a reason to come visit you at your place of employment?”

“Yes,” Sid deadpans, but he’s smiling. “So what’s up?”

“I saw your movie yesterday,” he says, and Sid freezes. “Yeah,” Flower says at his startled look. “Left Estelle with the neighbours and took Vero out for dinner and a movie. We figured we might as well see it, since we were already there and everything.”

“And?” Sidney doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to revisit the biggest moments of his life, the good or the bad.

“It was good.” Flower eyes him intently. “Really good, actually. They did a good job. I think you’d like it, if you actually sat down to see it.”

Sidney snorts. Can’t help himself. “I’m not gonna watch how my life has been condensed into two and a half hours of film. I’ll stick to my memories, thanks.”

Flower hums, patiently waiting as Sid hobbles off the ice, following him when he makes his way into the locker room. “I never realised before, how close you and Geno were,” he says after Sidney has removed his shoes, gingerly lowering himself to the floor to stretch his calfs. “You must have really loved him.”

Sid sucks in a breath, his head snapping up to stare at Flower with wide, startled eyes. “ _What?”_

 _“_ You loved him,” Flower says bluntly. “I didn’t realise before, but you did, didn’t you? You still love him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Flower shakes his head. “No, I think I do. For a while, none of us understood why–” He cuts off and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t understand then, but I do now. Seeing some of what went on between you guys in a chronological order, the way you acted about each other…Frankly, I’m surprised why no one put it together long before now.”

“It’s a movie! It’s not–”

“It’s based on your freaking memoirs Sid. The public might not know that, but I do, even if you’ve never let me read it.”

Sidney looks away from Flower’s knowing eyes, flushing red with anger and embarrassment. “No one was supposed to read that shit. It was therapy! Cathartic release and all that crap.”

“Then why did you give it to Taylor to read?” Flower asks, and he doesn’t sound accusing, just curious.

Sid shrugs. “I guess I just needed one person to know that it was real, to know that it happened. I couldn’t– I couldn’t talk to Geno, so I talked to Taylor instead. And wrote. _God_ , I’ve never written so much in my life.” He shakes his head, can still feel the disbelief of having written a five hundred-page book about his own life. He’d never meant for anything to come of it, had no plans to have it published, but he _had_ to share it with someone, and his sister had always been a willing audience.

“What happened between you guys, Sid?” Flower asks gently, and it’s been years now, but finally, Sidney lets himself say: 

“We fell in love.”


	176. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, public proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: I cant get over g’s video for sid, suit and tie with a nice back drop talking like a video you would play at a dramatic surprise proposal that everyone was in on (g sent sid around on like a scavanger hunt and he got to the end and the video was playing) and like it ends with g saying ’ i love you so much turn around’ and g is there proposing wearing the suit

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/accf18d1900b4f71446f0854399c58c6/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo4_500.gifv)

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/914110dfaf90b48bfcc9a9345ec2ee97/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo3_500.gifv)

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2068a6f39fe830b5fa69abb5f1230a7f/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo5_500.gifv)

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/cd1bd0bea2f98f9e0839163b73e6aafd/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo6_500.gifv)

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f91e13657dbe3b30b7c8155dc2f705e0/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo2_500.gifv)

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/76f97cbe5b3dbce799ae0e2b97f3e723/tumblr_olkv9nvagX1v69piuo1_r1_500.gifv)

> **_OMG,_ ok, ok. Proposal!AU time!**

There’s a roaring in his head, echoed by the crowd inside the PPG Paints Arena, exploding into noise as Geno’s message ends.

Sidney knows, even before he turns around, that he’s going to see his idiot boyfriend down on one knee on the ice behind him. His crazy wonderful, idiot boyfriend whom Sidney loves more than words could possibly explain.

His breath hitches as he lies eyes on Geno’s beaming face, his lips stretched into the widest grin Sid has ever seen. He’s holding a ring up towards Sidney; it’s huge and garish and so Geno that Sidney can’t help the choked laugh that bubbles out of him.

He’s going to wear that ring with pride, isn’t he?

Geno’s mouth is moving, shaping out words that Sidney can’t hear over the thundering of the crowd they are roaring their approval so loudly. Sidney doesn’t need to hear the words to know what he’s saying though.

He nods wildly, holding out his left hand so Geno can remove his glove. Sid doesn’t actually say _yes_ , but he doesn’t need to; the ring goes on smoothly, and Sid laughs again, because last week Tanger and Flower had brought him ring shopping for Vero—an anniversary, Flower had insisted, and then made Sidney try on rings too. To get his ring size, Sidney knows now.

Geno pulls him into a kiss, and impossibly the crowd gets even louder. They’re being mobbed by their teammates, beaming faces everywhere Sidney looks, so happy for them and—

Sidney would maybe have liked for this to be more private, for it to be just Sid and Geno. He looks up at Geno, at his fiancé, and swallows, awed, at the look of love and adoration on his face. For Sidney. Always, _always,_ for Sidney.

—as far as proposals go, this one isn’t all that bad, Sidney decides.

He actually kinda loves it.


	177. Sid/Geno + Jake Guentzel & Conor Sheary - Fluff, team as family, Jake and Conor calling Sid "Mom"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brightnail asked:  
> I don't know why I'm loving it so much, but I am getting such a kick out of the announcers switching from call Sidney "Sid the Kid" to now referring to his line as "Sid and the kids." It speaks to my deep love of momma-bear!Sid.

But omg, Jake and Conor who will share a look and roll their eyes when Sid chatters instructions at them on the bench: “Yes, _Mom_ ,” and then snicker when Sid cuffs them playfully on the helmet and says, “brats,” all fond and indulgent and not discouraging them at all.

Jake and Conor who gleefully help Geno prank Phil and then laugh their asses off when Sid gets all exasperated at having ended up in the crossfire of _another_ prank war, and they’ll hightail it out of there with a, “Uh oh, Mom and Dad are fighting,” cackling while running down the halls.

Jake and Conor who’ll throw rolled up balls of tape on Sid and Geno when they flirt a little too obviously in the locker room and say, “Ew, get a room! We don’t need to see Mom and Dad go at it, we’re only little,” and blink at them innocently, laughing when Geno growls at them in annoyance and fines them for being idiots while Sidney just sighs and shakes his head.

Jake and Conor who are out grocery shopping, Conor all wide-eyed and panicked because he’s hosting a dinner with Jordan and she’s given him a list of ingredients to buy and he doesn’t know what _half_ of this stuff is. 

Jake who grabs his arms, gives him a shake and says, “Don’t panic! We’ll call Sid. Sid will help.”

Conor who does just that, putting Sid on speaker and letting him guide them through their entire shopping list like a drill sergeant running point. Sid says, “Stay away from the red potatoes; you want russet for the mash. It’s got a higher starch. Makes it fluffier,” and Jake and Conor stay away from the red potatoes and get the russet ones because Sid is a freak who cares an inordinate amount about the uses and quality of produce when he isn’t stuffing his face with pizza and generally knows what he’s talking about.

(Team dinner at Sid’s is not unusual; there have been actual fights over his homemade blueberry pie. Sid cooks well enough, but he bakes like a _champ_.)

Jake and Conor who finish their shopping with everything on the list successfully checked off, who make their way through the cash register relatively intact, and is loading their groceries into Conor’s car when Sid decides they can probably manage from here. “Good luck tonight,” he says, and Conor replies, “Okay, Mom, thanks. Love you, bye,” and hangs up. 

Completely unironically.

Jake stares at him. “Did you just–?”

A few seconds pass. “ _Fuck_ ,” Conor groans, thumping his head against the side of the car miserably. He turns to Jake. “Do you think he noticed?” he asks hopefully.

Jake laughs. “You called him _mom_ , and told him you loved him! I’m pretty fucking sure he noticed!”

Conor groans again.


	178. Sid/Geno - Kid!fic, Lightning Before the Thunder snippet part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: “More of the lightning before thunder verse please???”

It’s not so much that her parents would have minded having more children earlier, but life happens and before you know it, Lenny is 13 and _very_ comfortable being an only child – to say she is spoilt is something of an understatement. 

(Uncle Alex had given her a pony for her seventh birthday and Lenny hadn’t even _asked_ for one! Uncle Alex is the best.)

She doesn’t think she would want a brother or sister normally, it’s just that Dad is pregnant now and so she is kinda forced to think about it. And accept it, she supposes. Dad and Papa are probably going to be wanting to keep the baby once they realise Dad is pregnant.

Which they haven’t.

Lenny decides it’s probably because a) they’re so busy, b) it’s been more than a decade since the last time they had a baby, or c) they’re both oblivious idiots.

Most likely a combination of all three, she decides as she watches Dad mumble to himself about where she has hidden the box of Nesquik he always complains about her drinking but buys for her anyway, because he hardly ever tells her no.

Anyway, Lenny knows Dad had been all about the chocolate milk when he’d been pregnant with her. The story of how Papa missed her birth is on Wikipedia. Actual _Wikipedia._ Her point is this: Dad doesn’t drink chocolate milk. Unless he’s pregnant, apparently. And Lenny’s math is just fine. She knows 2 + 2 = Nesquik = baby. She was a little wary about the idea of it when she first figured it out, but it’s been three days and she’s mostly gotten used to it. It probably won’t be too bad with a baby around. Probably.

It’s not as if she’s not used to them. Her parents’ teammates have babies all the time.

At least _she_ won’t have to share her room with anyone.

“Honey, where’s the Nesquik?” Dad asks, scratching at his stubble with an air of distraction.

Lenny grimaces at the uneven patches of hair; her dad’s been on a point streak all through December and he’s been refusing to shave even if they’re on Christmas break. Lenny sighs. Grandma had been so unimpressed by the annual Christmas photos.

“We’re out,” she says.

Dad hums thoughtfully. He’s rooting through the fridge now; Lenny has no idea what he’s looking for. “Be a good girl and text your papa, okay? Tell him we need apples and chocolate milk,” he says, and because her dad has never – not _ever_ – asked for chocolate milk as long as she’s been alive, at least, Lenny says, “Penny in the air.”

It takes a couple of seconds, but then; “Oh.” Dad straightens suddenly. He slams the door of the fridge shut and spins to look at Lenny, his eyes wide and mouth open.

Lenny lets her eyes dip deliberately to his stomach. If it hadn’t been for Christmas break, she would have told him already, pretty sure that her dad playing while pregnant would be a categorically Bad Idea™. But.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Dad croaks out.

“And the penny drops!” Lenny says with a flourish, even if she is pretty sure her dad will never catch the Doctor Who reference. Oh well. They can’t all be as perfect as her. 


	179. Sid/Geno - Siren!Sid, magical realism

The irony, of course, is that even when he’s using the Thrall, Sidney really can’t sing for shit.

**

Most people think Sid is some kind of water creature. The most popular theory is selkie; there’s an urban legend that Mario had stolen his pelt right after they drafted him and now Sid is forever bound to the Penguins.

“ _That’s why he lived so long with the Lemieuxs. They have his pelt_.”

It’s a common enough joke around Pittsburgh, and Sidney would have been insulted if the very idea of it wasn’t so ludicrous. Besides, Nathalie and the kids are all witches—for all that she married a human, Nathalie believes deeply in the sanctity of magic. She knows the curses and bad luck that are wont to follow those who take a selkie’s pelt without permission and she would never put her coven at risk like that.

Another theory is merman, and really, that’s not so far off the mark, except Sidney’s legs won’t morph into a single merman’s tail at the first touch of water like other merpeople. In fact, he doesn’t have a tail at all.

It’s a bit of a misconception that, made popular by movies and Hollywood and fairy tales of old.

The truth is, with the exception of the Thrall, Sid could be completely human.

Although, that being said, Sidney never had much of a voice to begin with.

In fact, it’s pretty terrible, which, you know, Sid being a siren and all _should_ be impossible.

But then again, he’s has always been special like that.

* * *

Anonymous asked:  
Siren!Sid??? Didn’t know how much I wanted that until now

* * *

No, but like. He’s terrible at it, just truly terrible. Most sirens enthral people by song, right? but Sid’s voice is just awful. All croaky and offbeat and everyone always end up cringing or laughing and Geno is the only one who legitimately likes to hear Sid sing and that’s mostly because Sid will blush in embarrassment and Geno likes to see how far that blush spreads. (Underneath Sid’s shirt for sure. He plans to investigate someday. If he can just muster up the courage to tell Sid that he is stupidly and utterly in love with him… It’s a progress. Geno’s got time.)

Anyway, so Sid singing doesn’t really work on people, but it does if he just talks? Like the power of the words or lyrics or whatever is where the real magic lies and Sid just unwittingly goes around using the thrall on unsuspecting people by being all polite and earnest and the pens have worked out a system where there’s always a teammate with Sid to keep him from drawing too much of a crowd when he’s out and about. It’s usually an okay job, not too harried even with the occasional straggler that was only asking for an autograph and ended up staring at Sid adoringly as he chatted amiably about the fan’s day, but there’s been instances when Sid has pulled a queue of a dozen people or more and it’s mostly just hilarious, albeit and embarrassing encounter for everyone though.

No one ever gets mad though, especially with Sid being being so flustered and apologetic and trying to explain that it’s the Siren thing and he didn’t mean it, and then that makes it wrong because the thrall sets in again and that’s how most people _don’t_ know that Sid is a siren, because he keeps accidentally enthralling them so they forget.

(Claude Giroux, a _proper_ siren, regularly despairs of him and keeps insisting that Sidney Crosby is by far the _worst_ siren to even siren. Sidney…can’t really disagree with that.) 


	180. Sid/Geno - Kid!fic, Lightning Before the Thunder snippet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> krynny sent a post: Maybe a lightning and the thunder have a set of twins later in time?

If you’ve read the mini sequel [14 Years and Counting](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F13668840&t=NWYxNzBhNzcyZTU3ZTcwMzQ5MGFiMWI5Zjk5ZTk1N2JmMGJlMTJjNCxsVGRQa1BidA%3D%3D&b=t%3A7lkmIzcfUC23W_r0QxPq0A&p=https%3A%2F%2Fhazel3017.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172529235953%2Fif-youve-read-the-mini-sequel-14-years-and&m=1), you know they had a set of triplets after Lenny.

Diana, Darya, and Dima.

They’re not Cup babies, though Evgeni certainly was doing his best to… _celebrate_ their win that they could have been.

(Not that Sidney ever complained).

Evgeni wouldn’t have minded them getting pregnant then, but they were going into an Olympic year, and while Sidney hadn’t been chosen for the ’06 Olympics (while Evgeni, shockingly enough, had been, even with his questionable history with the Russian hockey federation), they’re both sure to be selected to represent their countries now and Sidney wouldn’t be able to do that if he were pregnant.

Evgeni doesn’t want to take that from him as much as he really wants another kid.

Lenny is only four, hardly more than a toddler, but Evgeni _misses_ having a baby around. He misses the easy smiles and the gentle cooing and all the firsts. The first laugh, the first step, the first _Papa_. He misses the time before Lenny ever learned the words _no_ and _hate_.

They’d gone through a fun three-month period a while back where Lenny would respond to most things with a careless, “No. I hate that.” Even if it was ice cream, which she loves the same way Sidney loves cheesecake and would still eat even as she claimed to hate it. Just to be contrary.

She’s so stubborn and so silly and so much like Sidney and Evgeni honestly loves them both so, so much.

(His point is, he would like to have half-a-dozen more little Lennys running around, but he supposes he’ll settle for one more to start.)

It’s an easy sell to Sidney. He’s as baby crazy as Evgeni is, but the timing is always going to be an issue.

Another pregnancy means taking time off no matter how much they plan for it, and it’s one thing to have come back when Sidney was seventeen and not in the NHL yet. It’ll be another when he’s the captain of the Penguins, the face of the franchise. The face of the _league._

Which is why it’s such a surprise to them that Sidney comes home from Vancouver with more than the gold medal around his neck—and they hadn’t even planned for it. Again.

“Huh,” Pascal says three months later when Evgeni finally spills the news to the rest of their teammates because Sidney is thirteen weeks already and Evgeni is so excited he’s almost blurted it out a dozen times in the last month alone. “I guess it’s true what they say about the Olympics.”

“All those free condoms,” Flower agrees with a smirk.

Tanger shakes his head, amused. “I feel it’s a very you thing to go to the one place on earth where you’re drowning in condoms and you still managed to avoid having safe sex.”

Evgeni scowls. His friends are terrible.

Terrible, but not completely useless as proven by their staunch defence of Evgeni’s family when some reporters and fans question their decision to have a baby when it means Sidney will miss the playoffs and the beginning of the next season—as if they have any say at all about any of it.

It gets worse when the Pens are eliminated in the first round, and that hurts, especially because Sidney wasn’t on the ice with them and they’ll never get the answer to those _what ifs_ , but Evgeni will get over it the same way he got over the Olympics loss, and it’s hard to be too broken up about it anyway when there is Lenny and Sid, and the _three_ babies growing inside Sidney’s stomach.

Yeah.

Triplets.

(Evgeni did good).

* * *

Anonymous asked:

Hazel! Can you tell us a little about sid being pregnant with triplets and how that came about? Is Geno just that good?

* * *

\- The triplets happened during the concussion. Sid realised he wasn’t getting back to the ice anytime soon and decided he wanted another baby.

\- Geno was a little concerned about the timing, but mostly _all on board_.

\- (Geno really is that good)

\- Neither of them faint when they find out there’s not one, not two, but THREE heartbeats. It’s a close thing, though, and they both look a little pale, especially Geno, so their doctor gives them some cookies to munch on.

\- (The cookies are as awesome as Geno remembers from when Sid was pregnant with Lenny.)

\- It’s a high-risk pregnancy they’re told from the start. Triplets are no joke, and the increased risk of miscarriage with multiples makes Sidney incredibly stressed and nervous, which makes everyone else stressed and nervous too.

\- It’s only once he reaches six months that Sid lets himself relax and think, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

\- Unsurprisingly, Sidney starts craving chocolate milk again and keeps it stashed _everywhere._ Dana and the guys install a couple of mini fridges in the locker room just to keep a steady supply of milk for Sid whenever he’s at the rink to visit (and critique their practices). Which is all the time.

\- They both underestimated how much their fame would affect this pregnancy, because the media wants to know how Sid and the babies are doing _all the time_ and it’s getting a little worrisome.

\- (The Penguins have to officially ask a couple of reporters to back off or they won’t be welcome at the rink anymore.)

\- Geno takes great relish in deleting the message one of them emails him to complain about it.

\- Lenny is incredibly unimpressed with the idea of becoming a big sister, and definitely with the idea of having to share her parents, which she deems as “Inconceivable!”

\- Lenny’s favourite movie is the Princess Bride.

\- She comes around when Sid and Geno start buying her little gifts ‘from the triplets’. She’s still not fully on board, but she’s not above bribery, so she grudgingly caves and says the triplets can stay. “But only if they really have to!”

\- By the time Sid is only a couple of weeks from the due date, she’s even a little excited about the babies, and Geno takes that for the win he knows it is.

\- The babies are born via a scheduled C-section. All of them make it.

\- (Geno was even there for the birth, this time.)


	181. Sid/Geno, Sid/Claude Giroux - Misunderstandings, sex for money

“I’ll pay. For whole night. How much you want? I pay.”

Sidney stares at him, his mouth gaping uselessly. After a few seconds, he finally manages to kickstart his brain again. “You want to payme? To _sleep_ with you? Geno, what the hell?”

“Giroux do. Why not me?” Geno says, low and mean and _vicious_ , the way he can be sometimes, against Flyers and Capitals and people who mistreat their dogs. Obviously there has been some kind of misunderstanding here, something has happened to make Geno think that Sidney had sex with Giroux for _money_ , Christ, as if Sidney isn’t already a millionaire, as if Geno doesn’t _know_ that Sidney wouldn’t ever need to charge anyone for sex, Jesus _Christ_. 

And Sidney should correct that, he really should, he should say _no_ and explain the whole thing but instead he opens his mouth and what comes out is; “Okay, I want five thousand dollars.”

Geno smiles, all dark satisfaction, and even before he closes the distance between them, even before he settles his hands on Sidney’s hips and draws him flush against him, even before he says, “ _Good_ ,” and leans down to take Sidney’s mouth in a filthy, wet kiss, Sidney thinks this is a spectacularly bad idea and it’s going to blow up in his face _for sure_.

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

*

Or, in which Sidney is not a whore, but he lets Geno treat him like one anyway.


	182. Sid/Geno + Jake Guentzel & Phil Kessel - HP AU verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid gets hit by a truth spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I really wish you would write a fic where Sid just blurts out everything he’s feeling. Maybe to a rookie, maybe to the media but he just LETS IT ALL GO. Truth serum? Anywayz.... he’s like I miss flower, want babies, love Geno, hate losing. And then realises what he’s said! Oops.

This takes place in [the HP au where Phil Kessel is generally considered the worst wizard of his generation](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com/post/167326106488/in-the-harry-potter-crossover-of-my-dreams-where).

The thing is, Phil is terrible at being a wizard, which everyone knows, even no-majs, but he’s powerful and emotional. Generally a terrible combination for any witch or wizard, but worse so when you have no control to speak of.

Jake, because he’s a little shit, likes to take advantage of this. Someone had to pick up the slack when both Reavo and Flower moved on to the Kings, and Sid and Geno are too wrapped up in each other and their will they won’t they-not romance to do it. Tanger is too lazy, and can only sometimes be counted on for help, but generally Jake is the shit-stirrer on the team now. Everyone else is too scared or too sensible – cowards! – but Jake knows Phil’s ego must be kept in check or else he’ll start believing his own legend.

Which is why Jake thinks it’s a _great_ idea to hide Phil’s stick for a little while. The look on Phil’s face when he realises it’s gone is worth the risk of pissing him off in the first place, but when Phil’s hands clenches into fists and his eyes blaze with some kind of flash even Jake can tell is of the magical variety, he takes off towards where some of the boys are doing their game-day interviews in the locker rooms. He knows bringing an irate Phil into a contained space with reporters is probably a bad idea, but Geno is doing press today and he’s the only one who can calm Phil’s magic when it gets really out of control.

(Possibly, Jake has miscalculated here.) 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts over his shoulder as he barges into the locker room, and behind him, Phil makes a noise that doesn’t sound at all human. “I’ll give it back!” 

Of course, Jake was only intending to hide the stick for a little bit. He would have given it back before the game – Phil is on a 12-game goal scoring streak, after all, and he’s not about to mess with that, not even to piss off Phil – but he’s wildly misjudged how Phil would react to his little prank.

“Give it back!” Phil demands as he bursts into the room after Jake, not caring of the way the room has fallen silent and all eyes are on them. “What did you do with it? Don't lie!”

And, see, Phil does accidental magic all the time, yeah? Jake knows this, reporters know this, their teammates know this. Which is why everyone hits the deck once they start to feel the magic building, so powerful even all of the no-majs in the room can feel it like a physical touch.

Everyone, that is, except Sid.

There is a sudden silence, and Jake didn’t see Sid get hit by the spell, only the flash of colour, but he knows even before one reporters climbs back to his feet and says, uncertainly, “Eh, Crosby, you all right?” that this is bad.

Sid blinks at them. “Yes,” he says. A second ticks by, another one. And more reporters get back to their feet, a little bemused but mostly unfazed. These things tend to happen around the Penguins after all.

“Right,” another reporter says. “We were talking about Malkin and the influence he has on this team. So much of your recent success is due to his skill on the ice right now. There’s no doubt his chemistry with Kessel plays a part of it, but what can you say about Malkin’s skill that makes him so special.”

And when Sid goes on a monologue detailing the many virtues of Evgeni Malkin, as he has done many times before, Jake fools himself into believing that there was no spell, that things are okay after all.

Which of course is when Sidney finished his monologue by saying, “Also he gives great head and he’s really, _really_ good in bed.”

There is a second of stunned silence before everyone realised that Sid is telling the actual _truth_ and then questions are flying and Sid is answering and Jake is in so, so much trouble.

By the time Geno manages to remove the spell a few minutes later, Sidney has revealed everything from his favourite colour (pastel pink) to which player he dislikes the most (Dubinsky. I hate that guy) to what he wants to do after hockey (settle down, get married. Have a few babies). The last bit was directed at Geno, and if the situation wasn’t so dire, Jake would have cooed at how ridiculously in love the two of them are – even if they won’t admit that, for whatever reason.

Anyway, hours later, all of the reporters have been oblivated through less than legal means and all their recordings confiscated, and Jake has to sit through Sully lecturing him on the perils of pranking unsuspecting wizards while Phil looks on smugly.

And after _that_ , he’ll have to face Sid and Geno, which is obviously the worst, so yeah. Jake is in so much trouble.


	183. Sid/Geno + Phil Kessel - Harry Potter AU, in which Phil is terrible at being a wizard

In the Harry Potter crossover of my dreams where everyone knows about magic, it is widely recognised that Phil Kessel is one of the worst wizards to ever be born. They thought he was a squib up until he was 17 and he accidentally froze over a lake, but by then he’d discovered hockey, and really, that’s a kind of magic on its own.

(It does mean that Phil sometimes still does accidental magic, even with the remedial classes he was forced to sit through on the “encouragement” of MACUSA.)

Sid is a muggle. Somehow, people aren’t still quite convinced, but honestly. He has not a speck of magic in him. Taylor is a muggleborn, though.

The Canadian magical world uses British terminology. Thank Merlin.

Geno is a muggleborn wizard. He is actually crazy powerful, but he keeps this mostly to himself; by the time he got his wand he’d already had visions of a future that included hockey and one Sidney Crosby and all the people in fancy clothes with bright eyes and magic so powerful Geno could feel it crackling in the air could go fuck themselves, because he had hockey to play and a soul mate to win over and Geno has never cared for war or battles anyway.

(Why are there so many dark lord/lady wannabes in the magical world????)

Sid is not aware of Geno’s feelings for him. Literally everyone else is.

Players aren’t allowed to use magic during games, nor are spectators (there are safeguards in place), but the NHL actually employ a bunch of wizards and witches to keep the ice perfect in the different arenas. This may or may not have something to do with Sidney Crosby and his pursuit of the perfect ice.

One of Reavo’s favourite things to do is heckling Phil into accidental magic. Ryan is a muggle, and he finds Phil’s ineptitude at being a wizard hilarious.

Somehow, Sid always ends up being the victim of Phil’s accidental magic. _Hilarious._

Sid knows to go to Geno whenever Phil accidentally puts a spell on him. It’s practically its own ritual now. Sometime around the fourteenth time (Sid could only speak in Shakespeare this time), Geno says, “Finite Incantatem,” just as Sidney says, “Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” 

The ensuing silence is only slightly awkward.

(It’s possible Sidney has been in love with Geno since he saw him at Mario’s house that first time. Geno had been sad and weary but when he smiled at Sidney it looked like the best thing ever and Sidney had thought, _Wow._ )

This is the story about how Sid and Geno ended up together because of Phil Kessel, noted failed wizard.

(Also about the time Phil accidentally sent the Stanley Cup into another dimension for an hour and a half, but mostly about Sid and Geno.)


	184. Sid/Geno - Fluff, secret relationship, supportive teammates, rookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I wish you would write a fic where rookies are sat down and told about Sid and Geno not being in a relationship no matter what they see and how the rookies are in disbelief.

“So…how long have they been together, anyway?”

Tanger stills with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Who?” he asks casually.

Jake snickers as Simon and Juusi share a look, while Daniel rolls his eyes and Dumo chuckles, amused as Simon gestures emphatically at where Sid and Geno are standing by the bar. Sidney is leaning far closer into Geno’s space than is considered proper for two guys who are supposed to be _friends_ only.

“Oh,” Tanger says. He takes a swig of his beer. “Sid and Geno aren’t together. You wouldn’t be the first ones to make that mistake. They’re just good friends.”

Simon blinks at him in disbelief, while Juusi’s brows go up. “They’re holding hands,” he points out, and sure enough, when they look over to the bar, Geno has captured Sid’s hand in his and is lifting it to his mouth to place and honest-to-god kiss to the palm of Sidney’s hand.

The rookies shift their eyes back to Tanger.

“Best friends,” he says staunchly. 

Simon ignores this blatant lie, and turns to Dumo instead. “Okay, but why the ruse, though? It’s not like we’re gonna tell anyone.”

“Or like it’s a problem,” Juusi hurries to add.

Dumo smiles wide. “There really is no cover-up or anything like that. They’re not together,” he says, though he shares a warm look with Tanger, sure his partner is as pleased by the rookies’ display of loyalty as he is.

“They’re kissing though,” Simon says, a little desperately, and when they look to the bar again, sure enough, Sid and Geno are making out quite heavily.

Jake, the little shit, laughs at this. “Yeah, they do that sometimes. Still not together. Just be glad you’re not rooming next to them tonight,” he says, and claps Simon on the shoulder before getting out of the booth and joining the booth with Phil and the others across the room.

Simon and Juusi share another look. “So, like, are they together or not?”

“Not,” Tanger says, just as Sid and Geno rush past them, stopping only long enough to say good night and for Geno to make no less than _three_ truly unsubtle jokes that does nothing to hide that they are very clearly running off for a night of well-deserved sex – according to Geno.

“Night!” Sid says, flushed, and pulls a smirking Geno out of the bar.

“So–” Simon starts, but promptly stops when Tanger looks at him challengingly.

“Best. Friends,” he says, and well, Simon knows better than to go against a man with crazy eyes and a protective streak a mile wide.


	185. Sid + original Malkin kids - Kid!fic, single dad!Geno, found family, light angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> All Across the Field is one of my favorite fics ever so I wish you would write more fic with domestic fluff! Extra-wishes for kid fic. Tbh I’d read anything you write though.

Walking into his own kitchen to find the twins raiding his fridge is far from a novel experience, and Sid only lifts his brows in question, stopping to press an obnoxious kiss to Vitya’s temple and ruffle Zoya’s carefully arranged hair before going for the coffee cup one of them has helpfully prepared for him. Along with the steaming plate of pancakes.

Sid hides a smile behind his cup. Here to butter him up, then.

He’s curious, but he won’t play into their game. And besides, he knows they won’t have the patience to hold off whatever it is they need him for. Not for much longer, anyway.

They take too much after their father for that, and Geno’s well of patience is as shallow now as it was when he arrived at Mario’s doorstep more than a decade ago now, only nineteen and with twin four-year-olds by his side.

Sidney had been eighteen and still living with his boss (for years to come). Like the others, he’d been shocked to see Evgeni Malkin there after his disappearing act. More so by the children in his care.

No one had known, and for a while, it had been the best kept secret in hockey.

Sidney had been shocked, yes, but also so very charmed by the twin grins with the missing teeth, and the dopey eyes of their father, and his slow, relieved smiled as he realised he wouldn’t have to run anymore.

(In retrospect, Sidney thinks that’s the moment they stole his heart, the three of them.)

The twins are sixteen now, and Sid has seen them grow from children to the young adults they’ve become. He loves them as if they were his own, likes to think he’s had a hand in raising them. Certainly he’s the one who’s impressed upon them value of cooking and keeping a clean house. And safe driving, because Geno had taken them out once while they were learning to drive, and the three of them had returned not even ten minutes after they left, emotionally scarred, and even Geno had been wary of the speed Zoya had managed to reach while behind the wheel.

“So,” Vitya says. He’s very carefully not looking at Sid, but glances meaningfully at Zoya, his face doing something complicated that apparently means something to his sister.

Zoya rolls her eyes, and Sid has to hide another smile.

They don’t look very much like Geno—and Sid has been told that they much resemble their mother, as she was before she passed from cancer—but they’re very alike in manners.

The twins remind him more and more of what Geno had been like when they first met, a single father at nineteen, but still a teen, still prone to flights of fancy and bad decisions. But loyal and dedicated. So very strong.

Sidney has so much admiration for him, for the man who’d become a father at fifteen and didn’t know, for the man who’d taken them in without question when he found out about his kids, when their aged grand parents could no longer care for them—even as Geno was making plans to escape his own country, plans that now included the twins.

“So,” Vitya tries again. “It’s nearly summer.”

“Yes,” Sidney agrees. An earlier summer than he would have liked, but even Sidney recognises that winning the Cup _every_ year is a bit much to ask for.

“Oh for—!” Zoya shoves at her brother and turns to look at Sid determinedly. “We don’t want to go to Russia this year.”

Vita smiles, sheepish. “We were, uh, kinda hoping you would tell dad. And also let us stay with you.”

“We’d go with you, of course,” Zoya rushed to add. “Wherever you need to go for work or training.”

“Even Vail, man,” Vitya says with a noticeable wince, because for reasons Sidney has never quite managed to figure out, Vitya—having never even been to Vail—has a serious issue with the place. 

“And we wouldn’t be a bother.”

“We’d keep curfew and do whatever you say and—”

Sidney snorts and holds up his hands to stop the barrage of comments. He’s never once known the twins to willingly adhere to any kind of curfew. “Okay, what’s going on? Why are you looking to avoid Russia this year?”

“I’m gay,” Zoya says, and she looks a little sad. “Openly gay,” she points out, because Zoya has been out since she was twelve and decided she was going to marry Amanda Kessel when she was old enough.

(She’d been so scared to tell Geno, begging Sidney to be there for moral support and Sidney had been even as he insisted that Geno loved her no matter what, not matter who _she_ loved. Sure enough, Geno had only laughed and pulled Zoya into a tight hug. “Kotenok,” he’d said lovingly, pressing kisses all over Zoya’s face until she was laughing through her hiccuping sobs—she’d been terrified Geno would disown her. “You love who you love,” Geno said simply. “At least you pick best Kessel.”)

“Zoya—”

“I talked to a friend of mine a coupe of days ago, from back in Russia.” Zoya’s shoulders are hunched, and she won’t look at any of them, not even Vitya when he reaches for her hand.

“What happened,” Sidney asks quietly.

“She got beat up. Caught kissing another girl at school. They were beat up, both of them, bad enough that they had to go to the hospital and _they_ were the ones who were expelled. For _indecent behaviour_ ,” Zoya spits out, disgusted. “It was just a kiss!”

“Zoya—” Sidney tries again, but she shakes her head fiercely.

“I won’t go. I won’t.”

“And I won’t go without her,” Vitya says, all quiet determination.

Sidney sighs, so disappointed with the world his heart aches with it sometimes. He puts his coffee cup down on the counter and walks over to the twins, reaching out until he can reel them both into his arms. He presses a kiss to each of their heads and holds them tight.

“I’ll talk to your dad, okay? If you really don’t want to go, no one will force you.”

Geno will be disappointed, he knows, but not with the twins. Never with the twins.


	186. Troy Crosby/Trina Crosby + Sid - What if Troy had played hockey in Russia?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> lifecolouredpurple asked:  
> "Ok but baby!Sid in the first picture is wearing a shirt with the Russian flag and this could possibly be the inspiration for so many AUs!!"
> 
> Omg!! I didn’t even notice!! (Fair warning! I had already started writing this before realising the plot is not actually possible…So! I am BLATANTLY ignoring the Cold War, international politics in the 1980s, and the fact that the KHL was not established before 2008 in order to make my timeline work. AU!! )

By a twist of fate, just as Troy is about to sign for the Dartmouth Fuel Kids after a year away from hockey, he gets an unexpected offer to play in Russia. There’s a team down their 1st and both backups and desperately need a goalie and quick. They’ve gotten Troy’s name from Casper, a friend over there; they’ve seen tape of his pro tryout with the Kids and are willing to pay to have him sign with them. Just a 1-year contract, maybe more if it works out for all parties.

It’s early September, Troy is just about to turn twenty, and he knows–he _knows_ that painful truth that he’s not good enough; Montreal drafted him but he won’t ever play for them. The KHL is as good as it’ll ever get for him, if he chooses to go.

“It’s a lot of money, babe,” he tells his wife. “Enough to really start a nest-egg. I’m never gonna get that kind of money here. This is it.”

Trina looks at him for a long moment. They’d decided, last year, when Verdun failed to re-sign him and he’d gone a whole year without a contract, that he’d give it one more chance. One more and he’d have to call it quits.

It’s only been a couple of years since he was drafted, and maybe it is early to give it up already, but hockey is a business as much as any other and Troy is struggling to find a steady job.

Maybe it’d be different if it was just him. If Troy didn’t have to worry about dragging Trina along with him all over the country, never staying in one place long enough for her to get a job, or to find more than cheap one-bedroom apartments.

Troy wants hockey more than anything. He loves it, breathes for it. Before the draft, before getting married, he’d always thought he’d make a career of it.

He wasn’t the most skilled, maybe, but he was a hard worker, dedicated. He could be happy as a backup as long as he was playing.

And then he met Trina, and his priorities changed. Suddenly hockey wasn’t everything anymore, and he realised, for the first time, that there would be life after it. A happy one.

But he has one more chance before giving it up. He’d like to take advantage of that, to go as far as he was ever going to get before walking away from the game.

“It’s Russia,” Trina says, which is a legitimate concern—they’re not so far removed from the Cold War, more temperate now but still a concern with most North Americans with news so sparse and unreliable. Still. Players have been making the journey for about a year now. Casper included. It can’t be all bad.

“It’s a lot of money, though. And just a year.”

It _is_ a lot of money, for them anyway, and when Trina finds out just how much she caves. They really do need the money, and in the end that’s the deciding factor.

They move to Russia in September of 1986, to a quiet little steel town called Magnitogorsk. Troy plays for Metallurg, gets a couple weeks of being the starting goalie before sliding down to backup. It’s fine, he managed, he kept the team going for the duration, and he will keep doing his part.

Living in Russia is an adjustment. Troy handles it easier than Trina, busy with hockey as he is, but Trina struggles. She’s lonely and in an unfamiliar place, doesn’t speak the language and has no one but Troy really—when he’s there. Truth is, Trina spends a lot of time on her own. 

It gets worse when they find out she’s pregnant. She feels so alone, and no matter how excited they are about the baby, no matter how much they love each other, how much _Troy_ loves her, he can’t ease the solitude for her.

He suggests she move back to Canada at one point, but Trina refuses to leave without him. In the end, they stay, and when the season ends in late April, Metallurg misses the playoffs, but only just. They want Troy back for another 1-year contract, same pay, and it’s Trina who urges him to take it.

“It’s good money,” she says with a shrug as she rubs her belly.

Trina is five months pregnant by then, due in early August right before the season begins. Trina, and especially Troy, would like for their child to be born in Canada, but Troy needs to be back in Magnitogorsk for training camp already in late June. Trina will be too far along to fly then.

They still get about a month back in Cole Harbour before they return to Russia.

It’s easier this time. They know what to expect now, both of them.

They move into a new place, the first time they don’t just rent but own. It’s nothing big, but it’s got two bedrooms and a nursery, a functional kitchen and a surprisingly spacious living room. And it’s theirs. They make it their home, and they make Russia their home as well once Troy is offered a three-year contract.

When their son is born on 7 August 1987, Troy gets leave from camp to be with his wife and child. He cries when he holds his little boy in his arms for the first time.

“Sidney,” Trina says. “His name is Sidney.”

They hadn’t decided on a name beforehand, preferring to wait for the baby to be born.

Troy likes it. It’s got character. 

“Sidney,” he whispers. “My son. Sidney Crosby, welcome to the world.”


	187. Sid/Geno - Established relationship, 300 goal celebration (A Little Prickly Is Okay Part 8)

Geno wastes no time in bullying Tanger into buying the first round. “Not even do anything,” he crows, “least you can do is pay for drinks.”

“I’m fucking injured!” Tanger says, but there’s a grin on his face and he doesn’t even try not to cave when Dales and Dumo push him towards the bar.

Geno snickers. He turns to Sidney, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed with heat. He’s not even had a lick of alcohol yet but he already looks drunk. He smiles, big and wide, and tilts into Sidney’s side, pressing kisses to his temple.

“Did you see, Котёнок? See I’m best?”

Sidney laughs. He angles his head so Geno kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, smiling against Geno’s lips when he kisses him proper. He flips off the guys cooing and catcalling behind them, smile growing when they only laugh at them.

“I saw, G. Three hundred!” His voice goes a little breathy, maybe, but Sidney has always been hot for Geno’s hockey and that’s never been much of a secret.

“You like,” Geno says, self-assured, and his smirk is filthy and promising. “You like a lot.”

Sidney doesn’t even bother denying it. “Yeah,” he breathes out, pulling Geno back into another kiss, moaning into it and ignoring Scotty’s mournful, “Oh no, my room is next to theirs. Switch with me, Rusty. I don’t wanna listen to them all night.”

Sidney loses track of the conversation, distracted by Geno’s tongue stroking against his, by Geno’s finger tracing patterns into the skin just above the waistline of his jeans. _3 0 0_.

“We don’t have a game for four days,” Sidney tells Geno when they break apart.

“Hmm?”

“We don’t have a game for _four days_ ,” Sidney repeats pointedly. “You should take me back to the hotel now.”

Geno’s eyes grow wide. “Котёнок,” he groans out, sounding strained. “We go now.”

Sidney nods hurriedly, and pushes at Geno to get him moving out of their booth, eager, eager. So eager.

“Where the hell are you going?” Tanger asks when he arrives back at their table with Dales and Dumo in tow, armed with beers and shot glasses.

Geno lifts his hands, spells out _300_ , and wiggles his brows exaggeratedly before grabbing Sidney’s hand and dragging him out of there.

Sidney throws a hurried, “Bye!” over his shoulder, grinning at the collective boos of his teammates, and lets his husband guide them back to their hotel.


	188. Sid/Geno - Pre-relationship, getting together, feelings realisation

Geno lasts through the first dance, through the send-off, the awful plane ride back to Moscow, and is six days into his vacation when he literally stops up short.

“I have to go.”

He’s been out, in the usual club with the usual people, and Geno is not as young as he was ten years ago, but he still loves it, the money, the fame, the fast pace.

Maybe going home with different people every night has lost some of its novelty, maybe he’s started thinking about kids and settling down–but not now. In the future sometime, some unspecified _one day_ when he’s not consumed by hockey and the thought of another Cup.

He knows his window is short. No point in wasting it.

This is what he’d thought 6 days ago, 6 hours ago, 6 minutes.

“Geno?”

It’s not what he thinks now. Geno clenches his fingers around his iPhone. He breathes into the mouthpiece.

“Geno, are you okay? Isn’t it late for you? Do you need–”

“Sid,” he chokes out, and Sidney goes quiet over the line. “Sid, I don’t want wait. Want get married now.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

Geno swallow. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, leans back against the wall of the club and feels his back vibrate with the sound of the heavy bass. He’s so sick of it suddenly. He’s been partying every night this week. When’s the last time he had a quiet night in? When’s the last time he actually wanted to go out and it wasn’t something he just did?

“Get married,” he speaks into the phone. “Remember what we say at Shearsy’s wedding? He baby Pen and already married, have baby soon.”

“You said we should get married, if we’re still single at forty,” Sid says, and he sounds more confused than worried now. “Like a joke, right?”

“No joke, Sid,” Geno says softly, and it's not. Maybe it had been before; they’re not even together, never have been. It was just them goofing around, getting caught up in the wedding and love and the bridal bouquet, which somehow ended up in Sidney’s lap to no one’s surprise, really. 

Geno’s not joking now.

Sid is silent for a long moment. Then, he says, “But we’re not forty, though,” as if that is his only objection, as if Geno having asked Sid to marry him isn’t the problem here.

Geno chuckles. Some things change, but Sid never does. “Want we get married anyway? Now? Soon?”

And, “Okay,” Sidney says, and that’s how they get engaged over the phone.


	189. Sid/Geno - Magical mishaps, That one time..., penguins ensemble

lmao I’m going through my tweets looking for something completely unrelated when I stumbled over this gem, which I apparently wrote back in June:

I sort of want an au series called “this one time in juniors” that is basically about all the magical mishaps…

“He just turned into a kid?”

“Oh! That happened this one time in juniors. Took three days before the guy turned back.”

Sid looks at Geno, chewing on his lower lip worriedly. “Three days? That long?” Geno is staring back at him, all big brown eyes and pale, chubby cheeks.  
He isn’t crying yet, but he doesn’t look too far from it. Sid understands the impulse. He sort of wants to burst into tears as well.

Or that one time the French-Canadians all turn into actual penguins. “Oh, that happened this one time in juniors!”

Or that one time Phil fell into a deep sleep and WILL. NOT. WAKE. UP. 

“This one time in juniors—” Shearsy starts before Sid cuts in tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just tell us what we need to do to wake him up.”

Shearsy shuffles a little uncomfortably. “True love’s kiss,” he murmurs.

Everybody immediately turns to look at Carl.

“What?” He stares back at them. “Me?” Carl flicks his hair. “You think I’m the one?“ he asks sceptically.

(Carl is the One.)

There’s also that time where Carl accidentally insults a witch and spends a week with Bones and Phil trailing after him, calling, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fair hair.”

Well, Bones does. Phil mostly gets distracted braiding his long pretty hair into neat braids.

(Phil has a sister, okay? He can braid like a boss.)

Neither of them mind all that much to be honest, but things get a little dicey when Sid’s lips turn blood red, his skin pale as snow, and dark hair as black as ink. The Pens have had a lot of weird shit happened to them, but they’ve never been cursed with more than one magical mishap at a time. It would be fine, probably, except Geno has a sword suddenly and keeps swinging it around gleefully while singing his true love to Sid.

Geno, as they all come to learn, should never be in charge of sharp, pointy things.

(Tanger’s hair is still a little misshaped.)


	190. Sid/Geno - Literal secret keeper!Sid, angst, love confessions

*GASPS* Secret keeper!au!! I NEED the secret keeper!au!! ok, ok. let me explain. So in a world where people can’t lie, _ever_ , you have to exorcise the truth before it physically pains you. So while you can’t lie, you can say nothing, but eventually all the unsaid truths grow into this thing inside of you that is just waiting to explode until you blurt out all your secrets for anyone to hear.

But there are certain people who are built differently. They’re the keepers of secrets, and they physically can’t pass it on without permission from the person whose secret it is. It’s a great and terrible burden, and most secret keepers turn professional (and earn a shit ton of money) but for Sid–

Well. He wasn’t ever going to do anything but skate, right?

Usually, NHL teams keep secret keepers on retainer, but Sid is the Pens’ captain, and he’s always there and so damn trustworthy and somehow it becomes a thing, his teammates seeking him out, telling him all the things they can’t tell anyone else.

Sid loses count of how many secrets he keeps. He’s got them jumbled up in all the insecurities, the fears, the confessions of things that should have happened and those that _shouldn’t_.

It’s never easy, but Sidney manages, can’t tell them no even if sometimes he wants to; sometimes he just wants them to tell another keeper so Sidney doesn’t have to know, he doesn’t have to know that–

He manages. Until he doesn’t. Until it’s Geno standing before him, looking at him miserably as he cries out, 

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s Sidney’s wedding day. He’s hours away from giving his _I do._

He’s wished many times that he wasn’t a secret keeper, but he’s never resented it more as he feels Geno’s large hands cup his face, say, “Be happy, Sid,” and then watch him walk away.

Sidney won’t ever be able to ask him about it. It’s his secret to keep now.

Unless.

Unless Sidney makes his own confession.


	191. Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin - Fluff, drunken silliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stars-benn replied to your post “i’m seriously considering taking prompts right now. I never write…”
> 
> Write me some cute Bennguin �� Maybe one of them as drunk as you are checking how good he is on skates ��

“Okay, hotshot, come on. You’re gonna hurt yourself and then what will the team do?”

Tyler laughs when Jamie only looks at him mulishly. He runs a hand through his messy hair, takes a deep breath and says, “No! I can do it!”

He sounds like a little kid, looks like one too as he struggles to skate into a slow pirouette, and Tyler thinks he would have had such a crush on Jamie as a kid. Not much different from now, really.

“I shouldn’t even be letting you do this,” Tyler says. “You’re drunk, Jamie.”

“’m not drunk!” Jamie looks over at him, grinning wide when he catches Tyler’s eyes. “Little tipsy, maybe,” he admits.

And Tyler had known that when he said Jamie wouldn’t be able to do a pirouette if his life depended on it, and he’d known Jamie would take that as a dare, but he’s maybe a little drunk himself and Tyler has never pretended to be the patron saint of good choices.

“Hah!” Jamie crows when he successfully spins on his skate – the ugliest, slowest pirouette Tyler has ever seen but he’ll take it. “Do I get a prize?”

Tyler smiles at him warmly, can feel everything he’s feeling for Jamie writ large across his face. “You can have anything you want,” he promises, and that’s probably not a good idea, but then Tyler doesn’t make a lot of those anyway.


	192. Sid/Geno - 3 fic ideas

Anonymous asked:

SO that pic going around of geno with a caption saying "tips to win, ride geno. "What if that tip came from sidney like one of his superstitions? Hahaha

* * *

Duuuuude! _Yes_. That’s exactly how this [pic](http://hazel-3017.tumblr.com/post/127029181731/garageleague-ummmm) happened. I’m telling you, Sid is busy taping his sticks before a game, absently worrying about how Geno is faring in his coach/player meet, and is idly listening to the guys as they chirp at each other, telling Flower to keep his ass in the net and Duper to pass to Kuni on the wing.

“Listen to your kid,” Kuni tells Duper, nodding his head sagely. “Kody knows what he’s talking about. He’s got the right tip to win.” 

Which is when Sidney thinks, _I should ride Geno. He always plays better after good sex._

The locker room goes dead silent, and from somewhere to his left, Derrick makes a choking sound, his breath wheezing painfully until Beau mindlessly pats him on the back.

Sidney stares at his teammates, blinking at them dumbly when they stare back.

“Oh,” he says. “I said that aloud.”

He’s never going to live this down, is he?

* * *

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I really love your blog! :) I hope it is ok to ask you something! Do you have all time fave sid/geno fic that is written? And for you what would be perfect sid/geno fic that is not yet written?

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Hm, my perfect Sid/Geno fic that is not yet written…?

I think maybe a soul mate fic? I sort of want to write a fic where everyone is born with a soul mate, and you can determine who’s your true mate through something called soul energy. Now, a proper soul bond is always very strong, but it usually grows with age, yeah? So you won’t really feel the pull or a need or whatever to search out your soul mate before you’re in your teens, at least. 

But when Geno is born, he is an unusually quiet baby. Never cries, doesn’t really laugh all that much even if he’ll smile often and wide. He’s a happy baby by all accounts, just quiet and a little absent. Preoccupied, if Natalia had to put a name to it, as if he’s constantly searching for something or some _one_ not there. She can admit she finds it more than a little unnerving.

Things change suddenly when Geno is just a little more than a year old. He wakes up suddenly, bawling at the top of his lungs, and Vladimir and Natalia are immediately alarmed. They don’t understand what’s happening. Fearing that something is seriously wrong with their child, they rush to the hospital in the middle of the night, unknowing about the birth taking place on the other side of the world.  
  
After they reach the hospital and the doctors examine little Geno, the Malkins learn that Geno’s soul energy is fluctuating wildly, which means there is something going on with his soul mate, and, well, it doesn’t take many days until they hear about the newborn boy in Canada, whose soul energy is so off the charts the medical professionals all claim to have never seen anything like it.

“I think,” Vladimir says, watching his youngest stare at the baby on the television set with wide, unblinking eyes. “We need to make a trip to Canada.”

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Anonymous asked:

Genos like the big bad bear, gonna come and steal your goodie basket john taveres.....

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LOL! Now I cannot stop thinking about a kindergarten!au where lil’ Johnny just really wants to be Sid’s friend (all the kids obviously has a low-key crush on him, except for Geno, who’s, you know) and PK always tells him not to sit next to Sid, “Don’t you know that’s Geno’s seat? He’ll knock you off,” he warns, and lil’ Johnny ignores him _every_ time because Sid is just so cute and _every_ time Geno does knock him off the chair because that is, “ _My_ seat. _Mine._ ” And then Sid will puff out his cheeks and start yelling at Geno for being a bully and not nice, but he won’t make him give up the seat either because Geno is his bestest friend in the whole wide world and it _is_ Geno’s seat even if he was mean to lil’ Johnny, which was obviously Geno’s plan all along and Claude Giroux spends about two hours every day asking himself why the hell he ever decided to open up his own day care, because kids are so much work, omg!!

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